Midgar Burning
by PfenixB
Summary: There they sat, a failed cop and the second-in-command of the most prominent crime organization on the continent, on the floor of Cid's apartment, kissing desperately and acting as if nothing else mattered. In that moment, for them, nothing else did.
1. Chapter 1

Yes, we're still alive ^^ Another RP with calvi_sama, but it's not Perfection this time.

It's a little darker than most of our stuff, and all the tension is drawn out for quite some time, so...bear with us. Inspired by a pic of ani_mama's; link is on my profile.

Also, Cal and I have created an open LJ community that is an archive of our writing and assorted other valenwind-y things. Link to that is also on my profile.

Without further ado, Midgar Burning: *bows off stage*

* * *

"…and do it right this time, Highwind, or you're history!" Palmer finished, pounding a meaty fist on the table.

Cid Highwind was not a happy man. At present, his fists were clenched behind the desk, out of his superior's view.

"Yes, sir."

"Lockheart and Fair will also be in the area, but you are to focus only on Valentine. He is somehow the key in all this…"

Cid tuned out the rest of the speech; he'd heard it several times already. Valentine was a threat, he had the potential to take over Rufus' position and would be infinitely more dangerous when he did, he's capable of anything, blah blah blah.

He had heard it, in fact, twice already today. Only the addition to the lecture made its way to his ears:  
"Oh, and Highwind? Should you fail again, Mr. Wallace will gladly see you before you leave."

Cid winced. Barret Wallace was, among other things, huge. "Yes, sir. I won't be needing to see him."

"I should hope not." Leaning back in his chair, Palmer folded his hands into his lap, smiled lecherously, and said, "Now, off you go. I've got an appointment with a friend of mine."

Cid walked away, grumbling about how Palmer could simultaneously be working for the eradication of crime and Sephiroth's hold on the underside of Midgar –the figurative underside, that is, and not just the part under the plates- while simultaneously using Sephiroth's…facilities…for his own pleasure. The girl he passed in the hallway was undoubtedly a Honeybee girl, and clearly was under the impression that she was visiting a young, handsome, rich man.

Cid Highwind, in the midst of pitying himself, laughed.

* * *

A dark sedan pulled up in front of the restaurant and eased to a stop. The dark-skinned man behind the wheel put it into park and glanced into the rearview mirror, "We're here, sir."

"I can see that, thank you, Rude." A pale-skinned man said, reaching into his burgundy pinstriped jacket and removing a pair of expensive, dark sunglasses. After first inspecting them for unwanted dirt and fingerprints, he slipped them on, then tilted his head toward the man sitting beside him, "Do you have the documents?"

"Yes, sir." The nearly identically colored man sitting next to him lifted one flap of his suit coat just far enough to extract an envelope to view, before sliding it back into the pocket of his black jacket.

"Good," the man in the shades said approvingly, his voice deep and rough, "then there is no reason that this should not go smoothly. Reno, Rude, you two are to stay with the car. Keep armed and your radios on. I do not expect the need for back up, but I want you two ready to move if I summon you."

"Yes, sir."

"Yeah, boss." The fourth man, a redhead with wild hair pulled back into a tail, sitting in the front passenger seat said. His fox-like face spread into a cocky grin as he pulled out his sidearm, checked its status then slipped it back into its shoulder holster.

The man in red grunted and popped the car door open, the man beside him doing the same, and stepped out. Taking a moment to look up and down the street warily, he buttoned his jacket then placed a matching fedora on his head, cocking the angle just slightly. He walked around the sedan until he was standing close to his associate and he murmured, "I need you alert on this one, Tseng. This "doctor" fellow is soft enough, but he surrounds himself with some pretty heavy hitters."

"Aren't I always, sir?" Tseng replied, his face serious and emotionless, and locked his black eyes with those behind the shades.

The man in red chuckled and patted Tseng's back twice, "That you are, my friend, and I'm glad for it." Then he leaned down to speak to the two men still in the car. "Keep it running," He said in a growl, "We won't be long."

At a table near the back of the restaurant, Zack Fair (today Steven White) sat with his partner, Tifa Lockheart (today his wife, Melinda). As they pretended to be engaged in lighthearted, loving conversation, Tifa signaled to Cid that their targets had arrived.

Cid rolled his eyes. He _knew_ who Valentine was, yes, could see that he had just walked in –quite boldly, Cid observed- with his second-in-command.

Cid was not exceptionally good at his job. Why? He was simply a little too memorable for his own good once he had opened his mouth. Unfortunately, his mouth had a nasty habit of refusing to stay closed when he told it to.

He was also a bit sickened by how well Zack and Tifa played their current roles, exchanging kisses over their wine glasses, Tifa blushing and giggling at every little thing Zack said. They made perfect newlyweds, really.

It disgusted Cid.

He was just becoming aware of his unconscious grumbling about "sappy-ass dumbasses" when the waitress, looking concerned and a bit affronted, approached him and asked what she could get for him.

In what might have been a pathetic attempt at revenge, Cid ordered the most expensive item on the menu.  
As soon as he walked through the door he knew something was "off" and he hesitated, placing his hand on Tseng's broad shoulder. His second stopped and turned to him, instinctively placing his back broadside to the occupants in the restaurant in order to protect his "boss". "We're not alone," he murmured.

Tseng nodded but didn't turn around. He didn't know how his boss knew, but the man always had a sixth sense that rarely proved wrong. "Where?" was all he said.

The man in red snorted and murmured, jerking his head to the back of the restaurant, "One of those couples, though I'm not sure which, and that wino at the bar. This place may not be four-star but it's certainly better than that. Nothing changes though. It just sets us back a bit." He patted Tseng's chest. "Just be careful." As Tseng nodded, turned back around and straightened his tie, the man in red said disgustedly and so only Tseng could hear, "Cops. And Hollander's oblivious, of course."

As if to prove him right the portly, bearded man threw back his head and let loose a raucous laugh.

The man in red barely contained a sneer. "Let's go."

Tseng nodded again and the two men threaded their way through the tables to the largest table in the back where "Doctor Hollander" sat with two women – obviously of the escort variety – three men who clearly worked for him, and three more dressed in plain suits who looked dazed. The man in red sized them up quickly and dismissed the smaller two thugs, leaving them for Tseng. Instead he focused upon the black-haired man wearing a sword – of all things – strapped to his back, who watched him stern-faced and unblinking the whole time. Hollander always did have an odd flair for the dramatic. But then again, so did he. "Are we interrupting?" He rumbled, smiling pleasantly and cocking his head.

The man called "Hollander" stopped laughing and looked up at him, his smile instantly fading away. "V-Valentine! What an unexpected surprise," the man said, shifting in his seat and looking around nervously. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, just a little bit of unfinished business, doctor," Vincent said, placing his hands in his pockets nonchalantly, grin still in place.

"I don't recall doing any business with you, Valentine." Hollander said frowning, his pig-like eyes behind his glasses squinting in confusion.

Vincent sighed. "Oh, it wasn't me personally, Hollander, it was my boss. Rufus Shinra? Perhaps that name might ring a few bells?" He knew that it did by the convulsive swallow he saw slide down the man's throat. "Ah, I see that it does." His grin widened, and without looking away from Hollander's panicked face, he nodded, and Tseng reached for his inside breast pocket.

That caused a flash of movement as the two smaller thugs drew weapons, and had them leveled at Tseng while the man still had his hand in his pocket, and the big ape with the sword had drawn it and had it leveled now at Vincent's throat. With a bored sigh, Vincent cocked an eyebrow at Hollander. "Really?" He raised a gloved hand and flicked the tip of the sword away from his throat with a tiny metallic 'ting', causing its wielder to frown darkly. "Your boys are kind of jumpy there doctor. Small wonder you're nervous." He continued to ignore the swordsman and looked at the three suits at the table who were displaying various levels of fear. "Come, come now doctor, you're scaring your associates. That's not very professional. We all just friends here." He looked back at Hollander and waited patiently.

Finally, Hollander swallowed again and said, "That's enough. Kunsel, Luxiere, put the guns away, Hewley…" and with a tick in his jaw, the ape with the sword put it away.

"That's better," Vincent said and held out his hand. Tseng finished pulling out the envelope and placed the paper sheathed in his palm, then returned to standing with his hands crossed in front of him. With his other hand, Vincent reached up and removed his dark glasses. Leaning forward across the table, he leveled very intense, very red eyes on Hollander who sat back and blinked rapidly, breathing coming in short, frightened pants as the man began to sweat. "We're onto you. And the proof you need of that is in that envelope. Mr. Shinra has the originals. You have until noon tomorrow to produce the cash you stole, Hollander, or we'll be back. We'll collect what you owe, and the interest will be in body parts. Do you understand?"

When Hollander nodded shakily, Vincent's grin returned and he replaced his glasses. Walking around to stand behind Hollander he put his hands on the "doctor's" shoulders and squeezed once, making the man jump. Leaning down, he murmured into Hollander's ear, "Pleasure doing business. Oh, and Hollander?" He took a couple of quick sniffs at the man's neck. "You stink." Straightening back up, he nodded to the suits. "Gentlemen, thank you for your patience, I'll let you return to your business." And with a nod to Tseng the two of them left the restaurant.

Cid had been unable to see much. There were people and walls between his seat and Hollander's. Valentine and his friend, however, had undoubtedly approached him. In what he felt was the least remarkable move he could have made, Cid headed to the bathrooms at the back of the restaurant, placed conveniently two tables away from where Hollander was currently entertaining his guests. He wondered if anyone would notice that he never left them or if they would simply assume he was being sick.

From where he stood now, he could hear the entire conversation. He had come in just as Shinra's name had been mentioned, so he didn't think he had really missed much…and with any luck, Palmer wouldn't question what came before that.

Hollander owed Shinra; no surprise. They had already known that.

This night had revealed no new results, Cid realized as Zack stepped into the bathroom and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

"You're screwed, you know that?"

"Yeah," Cid answered quietly. "I know."

"I feel for ya, buddy. You go ahead and leave; we're gonna have dessert."

Cid nodded, pulled on a face that told everyone who looked at him that he had _definitely_ been sick, and paid his bill before leaving without the change. Not like it was his money.

The black sedan that had just pulled away –presumably with Valentine and his crew in it- was unmarked, unsurprisingly, but Cid smiled. Zack didn't know it, but he had managed to save his own ass this time. Smiling fondly at the sound recording device in his hand, he headed back to the office to wait on Palmer to call him.

He was surprised, honestly, that it even worked. And he had tested it; there was background noise as well as the conversation, but he wasn't the tech guy. They had people to fix that.

And so Cid secured his right to live another day.

* * *

As they drove back to the ShinRa tower, Vincent stared out the window, lost in thought. It was Tseng's sober voice that broke through his whirling thoughts. "He won't be happy about this."

"You let me handle Rufus," Vincent sighed. "You three just stay out of the way. Especially you." And he whacked Reno on the back of the head.

"Ow!" Reno squawked and turned around to glare at Vincent, "That hurt man!"

"It needs to hurt to get through that head." Vincent said, grinning. "You have the unique talent of opening your mouth in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I wouldn't call that a talent, sir." Rude muttered from his place behind the wheel.

"It is if we're talking about Reno, Rude." Vincent replied and looked at Tseng. If Vincent had any family, these three would be the closest thing. He was responsible for them and their loyalty to him went far beyond their loyalty to Rufus. If he left, they would follow him, and Rufus knew that. That was part of what protected them from Rufus' wrath, that and they were damned good at what they did.

When they pulled up to the Tower, Vincent had Rude drop him off at the front lobby entrance. "Let me talk to him first then you three come up." Rude nodded and drove into the parking garage under the structure. Straightening his tie and jacket, Vincent headed into the steel and concrete behemoth, and to monster that lived within.

* * *

Upon exiting Palmer's office, Cid heaved a sigh of relief. He had presented the audio clip with little anxiety; Palmer really was not very difficult to please.

Best of all, he would get to go home tonight and rest. It had been a while, since he had been more or less on probation after the Corneo incident. This assignment had been the first in a month; until now, he had been too busy waiting on the edge of his seat for some assurance that he was still needed to get any real sleep.

Sleep he did, aided by a glass of the wine he usually reserved for serving guests, and when he woke in the morning, he found that he did indeed have a guest.

"Good, you're awake. Look, I have to make this quick. I-"

"Wha?"

The woman, already in her lab gear, shook her head, and slid Cid's glasses onto his face.

"Shera?"

"How many women have keys to your apartment, Cid?" she asked teasingly, hand on her hip.

"Aw, baby, y'know you're the only one for me," he teased back, feeling a familiar pang of guilt for not being able to say that truthfully.

Shera smiled at the old joke and sat at the edge of the bed. "Seriously, though, I do have something important for you."

"Oh?" Suddenly much more alert as Shera leaned down to whisper to him, Cid listened carefully to the information she gave him.

* * *

"You _what_?" The blond man standing at the floor to ceiling windows asked, his voice deadly calm.

"I gave him until noon tomorrow. You'll get your money, one way or another." Vincent replied wearily.

"I _told_ you to get my money _today_." Rufus turned and stalked over to stand in front of Vincent, his hands on his hips. "I _need_ that money _today_."

"It can _wait_ one more day, and I _told_ you that I gave him until noon tomo- " A fist to his jaw silenced him. He had absorbed most of the blow, but he still tasted blood, as Rufus' knuckles impacting his teeth had split his lip. Wiping his mouth he straightened back up and scowled darkly. "Dammit, Rufus, there were cops there! I couldn't very well start hacking pieces off of Hollander right then!"

"When I give you an order, I expect you to carry it out. Must I _punish_ you to make my point?" Rufus hissed leaning in close to Vincent's face, and it took all of his will to keep from leaning back and away.

"No," Vincent said softly, averting his eyes submissively in an attempt to placate Rufus. "That will not be necessary, sir." The blond's love of pain was nearly horrifying. Not for himself, oh no, but for others. The man positively got off on torturing others. Vincent had been on the receiving end one time too many and he had learned, and learned well.

"Get out of my sight," Rufus sneered, "you disgust me you incompetent fool!"

Vincent turned to leave, but stopped when he heard Rufus ShinRa growl, "I don't know why I put up with you." That made him pause and turn to level a look at Rufus that very plainly said, _'Do you_ really _want to go there?_' And that only made Rufus madder. "Out!" He screamed, and Vincent was very careful _not_ to slam the door on his way out.

* * *

Who would have figured Valentine could be the weak link? Cid had always imagined getting to him through one of his flunkies… but apparently he had a life, too. _No one could have known that_, Cid thought, _except a woman._

And Shera was more than a woman. She was a woman who worked alongside the infamous Dr. Hojo in the mako labs. Cid had been outraged when he'd first heard, because Shera could have done something much more respectable.

But Shera, like everyone else, had her debts.

Cid lit a cigarette and leaned conspicuously against the brick wall behind him. _Valentine_, he mused again. _How th'hell do I get t'you?_

Naturally, that had been Palmer's order as soon as Cid had relayed the new information. Cid figured the park was as good a place as any to start, so he headed there. If nothing else, he could refine his people-watching skills while simultaneously offending the old woman who fed the birds. His mere presence seemed to be enough to make her draw her skirts away from him and make a face.

He loved making her do that. It was the highlight of a sadly large amount of his days. Today, cigarette still lit, he sat down on the bench next to her.

"Ooh!" was the only thing she said as she scooted to the other end of the bench.

Cid laughed until he thought his lungs would burst, then left her alone, patting her shoulder as he walked away.

_What would Valentine want with mako…? _

_*****************_

"Why do you insist on pushing him, sir?" Tseng said, dipping the washcloth he was using to clean Vincent's lip, back into the bowl warm water.

"Because Rufus needs to be reminded, quite frequently, that I'm not some mindless automaton that he can order around…ow!" Vincent grabbed Tseng's wrist and held it back as he glared at his second. "That hurt."

Tseng smirked at him, "It's supposed to; your lip is split. Now hold still." And the Wutian grasped Vincent's chin and went back to dabbing. After a few more moments of Vincent's squirming and flinching, Tseng sighed in resignation and placed the cloth in the bowl and set them both aside. "That's what I don't understand, sir."

"Whas's zat?" Vincent asked as he stuck his tongue in between his lip and his gum, and then made a face to make sure his lip was in fact done bleeding.

Tseng blinked a couple of times before he sighed and crossed his legs primly, "Why do you let him 'order you around'?"

Vincent leaned back in his chair and mirrored Tseng's posture. "Because he has something I need. We've had this discussion before."

Tseng nodded, "Yes, but if you left then you would be in a position of leverage."

Vincent shut his eyes, "I know this, Tseng. Unfortunately what I need is only produced by Hojo, and I cannot get to Hojo without Rufus."

"You still need out," Tseng said belligerently, "Has he asked you to his rooms?"

"No," Vincent said softly, resting his face in his palm, "but I imagine it's only a matter of time. At least until Reno slips up again."

"You should let Mr. ShinRa have him, sir. Reno needs to learn."

"He does, but Reno would never survive and you know it. He'd never be useful to me again." Vincent's eyes unfocused briefly as he gazed across his office thoughtfully, before turning back to look at Tseng. "We're finished discussing this Tseng. What you've said already is too much."

Tseng nodded, the murmured, "We'd go with you, sir."

"I know you would," Vincent said, sparing his second a small smile, "I know you would."

**********

Cid checked his watch. Almost noon. Aerith Gainsborough, their best undercover girl, was watching the restaurant in case they went back there. Zack was stationed near what was believed to be Shinra's headquarters.

Cid was off. Relatively off, anyway. He was supposed to be finding information, but information is very hard to find when it doesn't want to be found.

Asking Shera to get him into Hojo's labs would jeopardize her job and everything she had worked for; he would not do that to her. Sneaking in himself would be a direct violation of their ethics; Hojo, too, had a number of 'their guys' following him. They knew he suspected, but Cid breaking and entering –he was bound to do it clumsily if he tried- would cause him to move his…practices…to another, more heavily protected, place.

They couldn't afford that.

So he was back to waiting and being all jittery, and the tea wasn't helping with that. The place in the park knew just how he liked it –loaded with sugar.

He decided he needed another cup.

After repeating the process several times over, Cid sat on a park bench –unoccupied this time- and placed his head in his hands. Anyone else would have been able to find a use for a day like this, he thought, and realized quite suddenly that he wanted company.

It had been so long that he had become accustomed to being lonely. He hardly noticed it anymore, until days like this, when he sat and watched everyone else enjoying life.

When had he last laughed like that? These days he only laughed in cynicism. And at Shera, but she didn't count, because she knew him too well.

No one depended on him. He was expendable to the higher-ups, and he had no friends to speak of, save Shera, but…

But she didn't _need _him.

And he was quickly growing too melancholy for his liking, so he went for another cup of tea.

****************

At two minutes to twelve, the same familiar sedan was parked out front of Hollander's Restaurant, idling quietly, like a giant predator. 'Doctor' Hollander swallowed and tugged at the collar of his shirt and fiddled with his tie. All the windows were tinted, and he couldn't see in, but he knew who was in there. Valentine. As promised, the thug had shown up to collect, but Hollander would be damned if he would just hand over the money. He knew that if he took out Valentine, he'd be taking out one of the most powerful men in the Midgar underbelly and all that reputation would be his…not to mention all the spoils. He turned to the massive swordsman on his right. "Wait until he comes in, frisk him then send him back to my office alone. Do whatever you want with that stooge that follows him around, but leave Valentine to me."

The swordsman grinned evilly and nodded. With a jerk of his head, Hollander headed to his "back office" flanked by Kunsel and Luxiere, both armed to the teeth. "You two wait here," he said gruffly, and as the two bodyguards took of positions on either side of the door, the 'doctor' entered his dark office. After first shutting the door he reached for the light switch, but froze in panic when he felt two arms wrap around him, one hand clamping down like a vice over his mouth and the other holding a knife to his throat. A very _sharp_ knife. He hissed in a breath as he felt the blade nick his skin.

"You know," rumbled a rough voice from the vicinity of his desk, "Your security is very lax, doctor." And with a 'click' Hollander's desk lamp came on to reveal Valentine, sitting quite comfortably behind his desk. Wearing the trademark suit and black fedora, Valentine had his gloved hands steepled in front of a face that was both beautiful and terrible. The man smiled serenely. "I'm disappointed, but not altogether surprised." Then the monster leaned forward, and Hollander found himself trapped by those spooky, red eyes. "Now, I believe you owe Mr. ShinRa some money," Valentine said smoothly and jerked his head. Abruptly Hollander was released.

Quickly he moved away and spun to face the black-eyed stooge that never showed emotion and followed Valentine around like fucking lap dog. Mind whirling, it didn't take Hollander long to realize that any upper hand he had had abruptly disappeared, and that it would be in his best interest to cooperate…for now. Swallowing convulsively, he made his way to a framed print on his wall. Swinging the picture frame back, he gritted his teeth at Valentine's derisive snort and began working the lock until the heavy door swung open. Removing an envelope, he then shut the safe, turned and tossed the thick envelope onto the desk in front of the man. Valentine made no move to open it. "Now get out," Hollander sneered.

But the two men made no move to leave. Instead, Valentine's smile grew unbelievably cruel. "Oh, but we're not done, doctor," he purred.

"Wha-what'd'you mean?" Hollander said in a shaky rush.

At that Valentine took his time picking up the envelope, casually opening it and only making a cursory perusal of its contents before slipping it into the breast pocket of his cursed suit. He then leaned down and lifted a bulky briefcase to lay it down on his desk. "As with any loan, there is always interest," Valentine said with deceptive gentleness, popping the lid of the case.

Hollander backed against the wall and was about to call out to his guards, when the stooge moved faster than a snake to stand practically on top of him. The man growled, "They cannot help you." Without breaking contact with those cold black eyes, Hollander only just caught the moment of a gag being removed from the stooge's pocket. "No one can help you."

Hollander, his breathing panicked now, whipped back around to see Valentine putting a golden gauntlet of some kind onto his left arm and hand. The light from his desk glinted wickedly off of the blades that adorned the fingers of the glove as Valentine said distantly, "And I always collect."


	2. Chapter 2

Cid had been unsurprised to find himself called to Palmer's office. Valentine had returned, as expected, to Hollander's. Aerith, Hollander's newest waitress, had been able to blend in well enough at the beginning, but she had no way of getting into the back untroubled. Instead, she had called in what she found out, and somehow that meant it all became Cid's job again.

"I really don't know what you want me to do, sir."

"Nothing now, obviously. You're a clumsy idiot, Highwind, do you think I'd ever send you on a real stealth job? Not a chance. Your job is to be the muscle if Gainsborough gets herself into trouble. Time for lunch, Highwind. Stay alert. We cannot afford to lose her."

"Then send Wallace, he'll scare 'em all off," Cid grumbled as he walked to the restaurant, cheesy fake facial hair and contacts in place.

"Sometimes I hate my life," he sighed at a dog sitting outside the restaurant, and pushed open the doors, coat thrown over his shoulder.

****************

"Neat as always, sir," Tseng said as he carefully settled Hollander's body onto the floor.

Vincent snorted as he wiped his blades off with the cloth he kept the case for just that purpose. "You know I don't like this part of the job."

"Yes, sir," was all Tseng said by way of reply.

With a sigh, Vincent then retrieved the medical supplies that he also kept in the case, and then walked around the desk to kneel by Hollander's body. Thankfully the older man had fainted as he had begun to cut, and Vincent wasn't so sadistic as to wake the man up for the involuntary amputation of his right pinky. With practiced skill, Vincent cleaned and securely bound the wound, threw away the bloody gauze and alcohol pads and returned the supplies to the case. Leaning over the desk, he wrote a simple note in his elegant penmanship that read only, "Pleasure doing business."

"Shall we, Tseng?" he said wearily, and at Tseng's brisk nod, the two men left the office. Luxiere and Kunsel jumped and reached for their weapons but Tseng was quicker, leveling his sidearm in Kunsel's face making the thugs freeze. "Please," Vincent said quietly, "our business is concluded. Mr. Shinra is happy, and if Hollander is _smart_, he will not try to cheat him again. If such is the case, then you shall never see us again." He smiled serenely. "You may want to tend to your employer. And I would suggest avoiding doing anything…unnecessarily stupid," He finished when he saw Luxiere's eyes shift over to Kunsel's, as the fingers on his hand going for his gun, twitched.

The four men continued to watch each other warily, Vincent and Tseng with the patience of saints, until Luxiere and Kunsel relaxed and lowered their hands. Vincent nodded and touched Tseng's lower back lightly, which caused the Wutaian to lower his weapon and finally holster it. He nodded to the two thugs, and simultaneously the two went into the office and shut the door as he and Tseng began walking toward the front door of the restaurant. Tseng exited first and as Vincent began to walk through the door, his shoulder clipped that of a man entering. Their eyes met and held briefly and in that instant the only thought in Vincent's mind was that green was not the right color for this man's eyes, but he nodded nonetheless in greeting and made his way to the waiting sedan.

_Shit_, Cid thought, realizing he had arrived too late. If anything had happened to Aerith it was done…but his mind strayed back to Valentine as he searched for her. Surely the other man knew who he was. How many times had Cid conveniently been in the area while Valentine "conducted business"? He knew perfectly well that such a man was no fool, that he would recognize Cid by now, and likely not be put off by minute changes in appearance.

"There you are," he fussed at Aerith, who squeaked as he grabbed her around the waist from behind.

She giggled genuinely and replied, "I'm working now, silly, you have to wait until I'm off for that!" as she slapped his hands away.

Cid heaved a theatrical sigh and complied, saying, "All right," with just enough of a questioning note that she knew what he meant.

"Of course. Now, be good and go sit down at the bar where you belong, you old lush," she teased, swatting at him with the menu in her hands.

Cid wondered just what the people staring at them were thinking.

*****************

Vincent tossed the envelope of cash down onto Rufus' desk and stood looking at the blond who raised an eyebrow. "It's all there." Vincent growled.

"And my insurance?" Rufus asked skeptically.

In reply to that Vincent tossed the small box onto the table so that it slid and Rufus had to lunge to catch it. He continued to wait, arms crossed over his chest as Rufus checked the box's contents, made a disgusted face, then placed both envelope and box into the top right-hand drawer of his desk and began to shuffle papers importantly. Rufus picked up a pen and began to fill out paperwork, saying, "Aaaaand you're still here."

"You know why I'm here," Vincent hissed.

Rufus smirked and leaned back in his chair, "Do I? Hm, let's see." He tapped his chin and looked at the ceiling before admitting, "No, can't say as I do."

"You arrogant asshole," Vincent said breathlessly, barely containing his fury, "Don't you dare play games with me."

That prompted Rufus to slam his palms down hard onto the surface of his desk and lunge to his feet. "No, don't you play games with _me_, Vincent Valentine. Or have you forgotten that you need me?"

Shaking in impotent rage, he forced his voice to remain calm. "I haven't forgotten."

"No, I think you have," Rufus sneered, licking his lips as his eyes traveled up and down Vincent's body. "I think you need to be reminded of just exactly what your place is."

Anger leaving him and discomfort and fear taking its place, he whispered, "That won't be necessary, sir."

"I'll see you in my rooms," Rufus said, sitting down and shuffling his papers again. "You know what to do." Then he looked up and said, "Unless you no longer want what I have?"

Vincent swallowed and began loosening his tie, only barely containing the shaking in his hands. "Yes, sir."

Rufus raised his eyebrow again. "And?"

"I want what you have," Vincent gritted out between clenched teeth.

"Well," Rufus smirked, "we'll see, won't we?"

* * *

A hand slapped across Cid's face sharply. "Damn it, Highwind, how many times are you going to fail!?"

"You sent me there to make sure she was okay. Wasn't nothin' else to it."

"You let him walk right past you!" Scarlet walked to the window hands in the air dramatically to emphasize her point.

Cid massaged his temple. "What the hell was I supposed to do? Everybody in that place but me was armed. Y'think I'm fool enough t'try that?" _Again?_

"I _know _you're fool enough, Highwind, you've done it before! Why do you think you're under Palmer now?"

If he disliked Palmer, he detested Scarlet. "A' right. I know. I don't deserve another chance, I deserve t'be thrown outta here headfirst into the next car passin' by. I know." He took a deep breath, hoping his information was correct. He relayed to Scarlet what Shera had told him, then casually mentioned that he might have a way to get a personal, private audience with Valentine.

"You have three days. Wallace is getting very eager to see you. We keep promising him, you know, then you go and do something right."

A truck would hurt; Wallace would kill if given the chance.

"I'll take care of it," he said, and he would.

Three days.

This night, after being surrounded by things he hated, he would allow himself to be corrupt as well. The Honeybee, after all, was a perfectly respectable place if visited in moderation.

He was not surprised –though admittedly quite disturbed- when he found himself requesting a boy with looks similar to Valentine's. He was even less surprised and more disturbed that he used his companion until he screamed.

"Damn you, Valentine," he muttered into the night air, pulling his collar up to shield his face.

Three days.

* * *

Vincent jerked awake and immediately regretted it, as his whole body burned with pain.

"Easy, sir," Tseng murmured from where he sat beside him, dabbing the oozing lash marks that crisscrossed his back, buttocks and thighs with yet another washcloth.

"Where am I?" Vincent rasped, fisting his hands in the sheets under his body.

"Your quarters."

"And how did I get here?" he asked stupidly.

"I carried you," Tseng replied and waited patiently as Vincent hissed and squirmed under his touch, issuing quite a few colorful curses before continuing again. "I took the liberty of tending to your front while you were unconscious."

"Thanks for that," Vincent muttered. He sighed, staring at the wall for a while before noticing the small vial of glowing green fluid on his bedside table. "So he handed it over, huh?" he murmured.

"I would say that you _more_ than 'earned' it, sir," Tseng replied.

Vincent snorted and barked out another curse as Tseng hit a particularly nasty gash. "Dammit, that hurts!" he growled.

"Again, as to be expected. Now hold still." Tseng continued to gently wash him. "You know, you complain much."

"Well who the hell else am I going to complain to?" he griped.

"Too true," Tseng said with a tiny, amused grin, which quickly vanished when he asked, "Was this for him?"

Knowing immediately what Tseng was talking about, Vincent said, "That's none of your business."

"Right. I only work for you. You're not just my boss and my friend. Not my business at all," Tseng said bitterly.

"The less you know, the safer you are, Tseng," Vincent whispered hoarsely.

"Let me kill him," Tseng said suddenly. "You don't need him, nobody needs him. Everyone knows you run things anyway."

"But _I_ need him, Tseng," Vincent said firmly. "So you will leave him alone and let him continue to think he owns me, _us_. It's safest that way. Besides, do I really have a choice?"

"There's always a choice, Vincent," Tseng said.

He was silent for a while. Tseng never used his name unless he was truly worried about him, electing instead to always call him 'sir'. "Well, I'm still waiting for mine," he finally admitted. "Okay, that's enough!" he snarled, withstanding the pain to turn his head and glare at his second.

"Just let me apply this balm, sir. It will remove the pain, and allow you rest more comfortably."

Grunting, Vincent laid his head back down and allowed Tseng to sweep his long hair to the side and apply the anesthetic ointment. He squirmed uncomfortably when Tseng parted his buttocks to apply the balm and Vincent made a conscious effort to forget just what it was that Rufus had done to him and with _what_.

"I told Mr. ShinRa that you would not be of service for three days." Tseng said quietly as he capped the ointment and sat back.

"That wasn't necessary, and you know it. I'll be better by tomorrow." Vincent said, surprised as he turned his head to look at his second, already feeling the numbing effects of the ointment.

"I know sir, but given the amount of blood that was lost, Mr. ShinRa was inclined to acquiesce. I suggest you take the time off," Tseng said matter-of-factly.

Vincent looked a moment more at the Wutaian, and then nodded, "Then perhaps I shall."

"Good," was the only reply.

*************

"You told me to come to you if I needed anything. I need somethin' big now. I never wanted t'ask you t'do this, Shera."

"You need me to get you in."

"Not quite. I need Valentine. S'my last chance, Sher, an' I can't lose this. You know that."

"I know."

"But you can't lose what you have, either. I won't let that happen." Cid let his head drop onto his hands as he regarded Shera with weariness, hope, and respect. "Do you ever see him?"

"No. He doesn't come in. I just know it goes to him."

"Damn…but you know how I can get to 'im?"

"No, not really. But…"

His head picked up again. That had to be a good 'but.' "But?"

"I might be able to get a message to him. The chances are…slim, Cid. Really slim. Shinra doesn't trust him the way you all think he does. If those packages aren't checked at least every other time, I'll eat my hat."

"Well, since you ain't wearin' a hat," Cid said flatly, "we better go for it, 'cause I ain't got another choice. Gods, Shera, I didn't ever wanna get you mixed up in all this."

"I know, Cid," she said kindly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from where she stood behind him. "I know."

***********

The next day found Vincent up and dressed. He checked himself in the mirror before heading down to the lobby of the tower. Rude, Reno and Tseng were gathered on two chairs and a couch with Rude staring into the fountain, Tseng reading a newspaper and Reno playing with a yo-yo. When they saw him approaching, Reno sat up abruptly, his teal-colored eyes wide and his face pale, making the tattooed stripes under each eye stand out alarmingly. "Shit boss, you look terrible! What happened man?"

"Mr. ShinRa was in a mood…_again_," Tseng answered, before Vincent had to.

"Fuckin' _bastard_!" Reno snarled, spitting onto the carpet by the couch.

"It's done, Reno, let it go," Vincent said wearily, walking up to Rude. "I need the keys."

"We can make him disappear for you, sir," Rude said seriously, fishing them out of his breast pocket and handing them over.

"And as I've told Tseng already, you'll do no such thing, and you're not to mention this again, do I make myself clear?" he said firmly, leveling a stare at first Reno and then Rude until both nodded reluctantly.

"And _I _wish you would let one of us go with you, Vincent," Tseng said fluttering his paper and folding it neatly to lay it in his lap.

Vincent smiled gently. "Not this time. This is private business, and it would put you all at risk to expose you to it. I'll only be gone about three hours." Vincent looked around at his men again then back at Tseng, "Be careful…and," he jerked his head at Reno, "watch that one."

"I will," Tseng replied, glancing briefly at Reno. "You watch your back."

Vincent's smile turned wan. "They say that the strongest steel is forged in the fires of hell, my friend. I'll be fine." He then placed his fedora on his head, stuffed his hands into his pockets and nodded to his men. "Good day gentlemen."

He could feel their eyes on him as he left the lobby and it made him feel oddly melancholy. He banished those feelings though as useless. Arriving at the sedan he paused before unlocking it, sending out his unnatural senses to search for any incendiary devices or other unusual electrical currents. Finding none, he unlocked the driver's side door and climbed in. He put the key in the ignition and sat there a moment as he thought of where he was going and the young man he was going to see. With a sigh he pulled out the tightly stopped vial of mako and studied it sadly. Then, with a shake of his head, he replaced it safely back into the inside breast pocket of his jacket and started the car.

An hour later Vincent pulled the car into the small drive of a private, and extremely _expensive_ sanatorium. He parked the sedan in the near-empty parking lot and climbed out, sliding on his tinted glasses as he did so while adjusting his suit and replacing his hat. As he entered the front lobby, an immaculately uniformed nurse looked up from the receptionists desk, her pretty face lighting up in a smile. "Well hello, Mr. Black!" she said, blushing when he touched the brim of his hat with a gloved thumb and forefinger, and smiled back in greeting. "We were afraid that you wouldn't come today! Silly me; we should have known better! You've never missed a Friday yet!"

"Any change, Ms. Lucien?" Vincent asked softly, beginning the usual back and forth that he and the various members of the staff had developed since he had first brought his charge here three years ago.

"No, sir, I'm sorry. But your nephew is still unresponsive," she said sadly.

"Well, I suppose that cannot be helped," he said with a sigh. "But one can hope, can one not?"

"Oh indeed!" the nurse said readily. "I think your visiting him so regularly is doing him some good. We just can't see it yet!"

"I hope so," Vincent murmured, his voice distant and hollow sounding to his ears.

There was an awkward moment of silence between them before the nurse straightened and her smile returned. "Well, stay as long as you like, Mr. Black."

"Thank you," he said, giving a slight bow before heading off down the wing that housed the comatose and catatonic patients.

The door he sought was the last one in that wing. He paused a moment before taking a deep breath and entering the dim room. It smelled of dark spices – a specific request – and he slowly approached the pale, thin body that was carefully arranged in the larger-than-normal bed. There was a quiet beeping from the heart monitor by the wall, and the various adornments necessary for sustained life, from catheters to feeding tubes, were surreptitiously placed around the recumbent form and tucked out of sight.

Vincent stood over the body for a while before he reached into his suit to withdraw the mako tube and syringe. He carefully withdrew the glowing, thick fluid, tapped out the air bubbles, and then reached down to grasp one thin arm. With practiced ease he inserted the needle, pulled back on the plunger to mix the thick blood with the mako, the slowly injected the frail body with the substance. Once finished, he capped the syringe and placed both it and the now-empty tube back into his inside breast pocket. Reverently, he stroked limp, matted hair. "Very soon now," he said gently, "very soon we shall both be free."


	3. Chapter 3

Midgar Burning, Chapter Three

RP between Larry and Maynard

Rating: M

This chapter: PG-13

* * *

After finishing at the sanatorium, Vincent drove back to the ShinRa Tower and headed up to his office. Tseng followed him while Rude and Reno left to enjoy their day off. After firmly embedding himself in the finer art of black market accounting –which he hated with an ill-motivated passion – he proceeded to lose all track of time. When there came a knock on his closed office door, it didn't register at first. It wasn't until the third knock and Tseng sticking his head into his office, that Vincent realized that he had visitors. "There are some men here to see you, sir. They say that they have a 'business proposition'. Shall I show them in?"

Vincent raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. "Please do, Tseng." He was curious as to just what this was about, grateful for the distraction.

His second entered, followed immediately by a trio of silver-haired young men, dressed smartly in identical black-and-white pinstriped suits. His eye was instantly drawn to a tall, willowy young man sporting a black fedora and a deceptively empty and somewhat vacant expression, save for his eyes. Those bright green eyes missed nothing as they scanned the room to finally come to a rest upon his own, and he saw a silver brow arch slightly. He felt a momentary thrill hum through his body to come to a rest in his groin before he dismissed his scrutiny to take in his companions. The next to draw his attention was a rather heavily muscled young man who wore no hat, but instead wore a red carnation in his lapel. Vincent thought that rather odd, but moved his study on to the third and final member or the group who likewise did not wear a hat and had his shoulder-length hair half obscuring his face. Affecting a bored expression he asked, "And what can I do for you gentlemen?"

"So _you're _Vincent Valentine," the shortest one said disdainfully, "somehow I expected more."

"Did you." Vincent said flatly. "And what, by chance, _were _you expecting?"

The shortest one grinned, but didn't answer, saying instead, "My name is Kadaj, this is Yazoo ,and the big one here is Loz. We're here to tell you about a meeting that you are to attend."

Amused, Vincent's eyebrow rose. "Really."

"Yes. You are to meet a man named Cid Highwind, a cop." Kadaj smirked.

"Is that right," Vincent said, amused that this upstart would think to order him around. "And who is it _requesting_ my presence at this 'meeting'?"

"Me, and it's not a request." Kadaj sniffed. "Everything has been arranged and if you wish to see your man again, you'll be sure to happily attend."

Vincent's blood ran cold, and his voice was deadly calm as he said, "Explain."

"Your redheaded friend so loves alcohol and flirting. It took very little effort from Yazoo here to get him to spill who it was that he worked for, not that we didn't already know, and then a simple discussion with Loz's fist persuaded the idiot that it would be fun to come back to our place and 'play' for a while." Kadaj crossed his arms and sneered. "Do you always hire incompetence?"

Vincent had moved from amused to irritated to downright pissed off with alarming speed, and he could _feel_ Tseng's tension next to him, which did nothing to help his stress level. What was worse though, was that it didn't appear as though this "Kadaj" was finished. He had had enough however, and with deceptive calmness he leaned over, opened his desk drawer and withdrew his weapon of choice: a high caliber, tri-barreled pistol affectionately named _Cerberus_, and leveled it at Kadaj's head. Next to him Tseng tensed, ready to go for his own weapon should the need arise.

"What are you doing?" Kadaj asked, a little startled, as the other two snapped to attention, with Yazoo obviously going for a concealed weapon and Loz balling his fists and taking a threatening pose.

"What does it look like I am doing, runt?" Vincent calmly. "I am growing tired of your little game, and I'm preparing to remove a useless shit-stain from this world. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Do you think so little of your man? You _must_ if-"

"Ah-ah," Vincent interrupted with a patience he didn't how he dredged up, nor from where. "I want you to carefully consider the next words that come out of your mouth, because they will be what determines whether you have a good day," he cocked _Cerberus_, "or a very, very _bad_ day."

Kadaj was not stupid. He knew, as he stared down that tri-barrel, that this weapon would very efficiently redistribute his molecules. Namely against the far wall, but neither was Kadaj entirely _sane_. He grinned slowly, and said but one word: "Sephiroth."

"I'm listening," Vincent growled.

"We know what you want, and we want the same thing. We are merely offering our services to help get what you want…what _we_ want."

"Go on."

"Your control is slipping, Valentine. Even now the tiny cracks of dissention that have begun in the careful foundation that you have taken such _pains_ to construct over the years are spreading and widening. That idiot Hollander was only the first. We are willing to work with you to 'shore up' your foundation, even as we work toward our common goal."

"No."

Taken aback, the young man blinked. "What?"

"Well, let's see. First, I have no idea who you three are and therefore have absolutely no way to confirm that what you say is true. Second, you come marching into my office and have the sheer ridiculous _audacity_ to make demands of me while telling me that you have one of my men. Third, you are either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to have taken Reno – assuming you even have him – but your clear lack of judgment does nothing to instill any confidence in me whatsoever. Fourth, should I agree to your "help", there will be no working _with_. You three would be working _for_ me. Any idiot can pull a trigger and I don't need thugs, I need discipline. Shall I keep going?"

The three now wore nearly identical scowls that only served to amuse him. "You have no idea who you are dealing with..." Kadaj began.

"That's right, I don't," Vincent snorted.

"…Which is why I brought a little incentive." Kadaj finished smoothly, and the muscled member of the trio handed him something white. Kadaj then tossed it onto Vincent's desk.

Sobering instantly and never lowering his weapon, Vincent slowly unwrapped the bundle to reveal Reno's bloody shirt and a hank of red hair…Reno's ponytail. His gaze flicked back up to Kadaj, eyes burning like coals, and when he spoke his voice was frigid and deadly calm. "If I find...that you have seriously hurt him in any way, shape or form…I shall use _all_ of my considerable resources to make you three realize that your creation was a mistake. You shall feel pain unlike _any_ you have ever felt before, do I make myself _absolutely_ clear?" Out of the corner of his eye, he just caught the faint tic beginning in Tseng's jaw that revealed the man's anger, but other than that, Tseng's face was stone. He did not relish the idea of telling Rude about his partner's abduction.

Kadaj snorted. "We'll see…"

Vincent saw red as the last of his patience snapped, and he was around the desk before Kadaj could finish speaking. With an inhuman snarl, wrapped one hand around Kadaj's thin neck and pressed the young man up against the wall. His free hand was used to backhand Loz, tossing the man to fall into a boneless heap, unconscious, on the floor. He then caught Yazoo, as the beautiful youth growled softly and lunged at him, hand also about the throat. He squeezed both necks, forcing Yazoo down onto his knees and Kadaj's eyes to widen as he took in Vincent's terrible face with eyes that glowed not red, but now a bright citrine.

Kadaj knew Vincent could break him; snap him in half with very little effort, and Kadaj had no choice but to respect that. He heard a wheezing sound and managed to turn his head to see Yazoo struggling against Vincent's choking hold upon his neck. This only made Kadaj laugh – as much as he _could,_ given his current situation. "If you want your man back, Valentine, then meet the cop at The Cetra at 9:00 two nights from now. Or else _we_ keep the redhead, and 'play' with him a little more."

Growling, Vincent lowered Kadaj to the ground but did not release his hold on the thin neck. He _did_ however release Yazoo, who then slumped forward coughing before crawling over to check on a moaning Loz. Jerking Kadaj up so their faces were only inches apart he hissed, "Very well, _boy_. I shall meet your cop and hear his terms. _Then_ I expect Reno returned to me _unharmed_, and your loyalty to _me_ as discussed. Do we have an accord?"

Kadaj's grin widened as his feet touched the ground. "Indeed we do, Mr. Valentine."

"I hope I do not need to _emphasize_ that not holding up your end would be a very, _very_ bad idea." Vincent said stiffly as he forced himself to release his hold on Kadaj's neck.

Straightening his jacket, Kadaj snapped his fingers at Yazoo and Loz as the two slowly climbed to their feet, and said stiffly, "That will not be necessary, Mr. Valentine. I believe we got it the first time."

As the trio then headed for the door, Kadaj stopped in the doorway after Yazoo and Loz had left, to look over his shoulder at Vincent. "Oh, and Vincent?" When the red-eyed man with the over-compensatory firearm, leveled a flat stare on him, Kadaj smirked. "Pleasure doing business." At the rabid narrowing of the man's eyes, Kadaj laughed again, mockingly, and followed after his associates as he made a point to slam the door behind him.

Vincent's nostrils flared as he curled his hands into fists. But it was Tseng who spoke up, "I believe I do not like him, Vincent. That one is not to be trusted."

"No he is not," Vincent snarled, and prowled around to sit down behind his desk again. Worry for Reno's safety and rage at Kadaj's presumptuousness and attitude had him wound tighter than a bedspring. He did _not_ like being told what to do; Shinra was bad enough, but this little upstart was too much. He picked up _Cerberus_ and began to meticulously and obsessively clean the massive weapon. It was either that, destroy something, or kill someone, and he couldn't afford to do either of the latter at the moment. "We have a little less than two days, Tseng," he said quietly. "I want to know everything you can find on this Cid Highwind."

Tseng nodded and without a word left Vincent's office to begin his mission.

--------

Two days later at 8:00, Rude was driving Vincent and Tseng to The Cetra, a ritzy new restaurant toward the upper plates whose owner, one Dr. Gast, who moonlighted as a restaurant and nightclub owner outside of his new private practice just this side of the upper plates, Vincent had yet to visit. He had however heard good things about both facility _and_ owner. Pulling to a stop, Tseng got out of the vehicle and opened the door for Vincent who stepped out of the sedan while placing his dark glasses on, and followed him inside. The maitre d' looked up and smiled. "Two, gentlemen?"

Vincent nodded and said, "Yes, but the second member of the party has yet to arrive."

The maitre d' looked at Tseng confusedly. "Very good sir, will that be smoking or non?"

Vincent briefly considered specifying "non", but thought better of it. He wanted this meeting to go smoothly, and not give Kadaj a reason to be more difficult than he already was. "Smoking, if you please."

"Very good, and your name, sir? So that I might assist your party-member when they arrive?"

"Valentine, and I would like a table in the back, close to the bar." Vincent said, not wanting to be far from Tseng who would keep an eye on things from the bar. He also wanted to watch the door. The maitre d' seated him at a corner table and he sat, putting his back to the wall. Tseng nodded slightly to Vincent and removed himself to sit at the bar in such a way that he could keep his eye on both Vincent _and_ the door. Vincent crossed his legs primly, and leaned back in his chair.

When the waitress approached and asked what he wanted to drink, he ordered Vodka on the rocks and began to mentally review what he had learned of Cid Highwind, which sadly wasn't much. But then again, the _man _wasn't much. Born and raised in Midgar to parents who were both now deceased –one to suicide and the other natural causes – Cid Highwind had spent his whole life living from flop house to flop house and stealing what he needed to in order to survive, until the "force" picked him up. His legal history was nearly spotless except for a few minor charges of loitering and shoplifting. He had been with the Midgar PD Lower Plates Division for eight years, and from the looks of things was on his way out, for good, following some rather horrendously botched investigatory work. Vincent snorted. He had no idea _what_ Kadaj had been thinking when he had set up this meeting with Highwind; the man was washed up, virtually _useless_ to him and the picture of incompetence, and yet here he sat, impatiently awaiting the man's arrival.

When his drink arrived, Vincent began to take slow sips of it, and let his mind wander to business. He was so caught up in itineraries, personnel analyses, meetings, Rufus, money, Reno and his new trio of headaches, that he nearly missed the scruffy blond in the battered trench coat – making him look disgustingly out of place and more fit for a bar than a glitzy restaurant – walk in. The man looked around, even jumping at one point until the maitre d' scurried over and spoke softly, stilling the jerky movement. Words were exchanged that he didn't hear, and then the maitre d' began walking back to his table. Face neutral and expressionless, he watched Cid Highwind approach from behind his glasses until they finally stopped, and the maitre d' pulled out the second chair before leaving them. Cid shrugged out of his trench coat and finagled it onto the back of his chair before sitting down.

"All right," Vincent said levelly, cutting to the chase. "I'm here. Now what can I do for you, Mr. Highwind?"

Cid sighed and removed his glasses, reaching around to clean them on his jacket. This was going to be one of the most difficult, potentially life-changing things he'd ever done.

Fate, he reasoned, was a funny thing.

The man before him was a man he could have loved had they been given the chance. But now, he used every quality Cid admired in him for purposes that made Cid loath to be in his presence.

He wished he could have saved him.

No, no; he just wished he could have saved _someone_. But he could, if only this would turn out the right way. He would just have to hope that his idiot's charm would help that along. "Valentine," he acknowledged, nodding brusquely. "Let me say this first. You're the reason my life is hell. It's 'cause o' you I can't get past th'bottom. I reckon I oughta hate you more'n I've ever hated anybody."

Cid sighed heavily, finally realizing just how deep this hole was. He would not be able to get out if the need arose.

"Let me also say that I mean you no harm. I did not plan this meetin' an' I did not take yer boy, but I reckon you know that. I couldn't pull that off if I tried. I did not hire those assholes t'do it, either. He's safe, by th'way. Back at my place an' feelin' pretty damn good about 'imself. Friend o' mine's kept 'im more or less sedated," he clarified, "so 'e didn't go runnin' off to ya an' ruin a chance fer all of us."

"I suppose I should be glad that I don't have an idiot like you working for me if you insult the person you are negotiating with as soon as you open your mouth." Vincent replied, a tic beginning in his jaw. "But you are not the first person to "hate" me, Mr. Highwind, nor will you be the last." He took another drink of his vodka and studied the sad excuse for a man across from him. He really should be more disgusted with him, and the fact that he was not was slightly off-putting. "Nor was it a particularly wise idea to inform me that you have my associate, as I could just as easily phone one of my men to break into your home, kill your friend and retrieve what is mine." Something else that threw Vincent off balance, he realized, was that Cid oddly made him relax. He should be walking out right now, pissed as all hell that Highwind had Reno, but instead he found himself wanting to be patient and lenient with the man. He cleared his throat. "It would seem that 'those three' who visited me are also making your life rather 'inconvenient' as well." He reached up and removed his dark glasses and regarded Cid calmly. "Now why don't we both do each other a favor and cut to the chase. I'm a very busy man, and I'm sure you have…_other_ things that you would rather be doing at the moment. Why did you wish to see me?"

Looking away immediately from the eyes that tried to pierce him, Cid muttered, "I didn't know what they'd said. Just thought I'd let y'know, y'know, that 'e ain't hurt. I ain't never hurt anybody, Valentine, an' I ain't about t'start. An' I don't hate you. I should, but I just don't."

"Long an' short of it is this: I'm tired. You're tired. We're all fuckin' sick o' who we are an' where we are. An' I'm aware that most people have t'live their whole lives feelin' like that, but dammit…if I can do somethin' about it fer m'self, why shouldn't I? I need you t'make that happen."

Cid took a deep breath and looked determinedly, unblinkingly into Valentine's eyes. He was not, for some reason, afraid of this man. He respected him, but he would not be made to back down.

So much pain hidden behind the lids…but there was also humanity in those eyes.

He just hoped that would win out, and that this would somehow pull itself together.

"I know what you need. I don't know why, but I know it ain't fer you directly. I also know full well you're the top no matter how highly Shinra thinks of 'imself. I know…know that if not fer the mako, you'd've already taken over. I'd like ya t'do that," he said firmly, speaking only for himself. Scarlet and Palmer wanted Valentine taken out as soon as all his protection was destroyed. "You could fix up Midgar. You could, 'cause you ain't...you ain't bloodthirsty, an' neither are the ones behind ya."

Cid was very glad for help from higher places; this speech had been rather well rehearsed, even if his delivery was, well, lacking.

"I'll make sure you keep gettin' what you need. You'd be workin' with us…with _me_, but not _for_ me. I wouldn't ask that. I'll keep m'self outta yer business so long as the crime rate stays low."

Vincent was silent as he regarded Cid, tapping a finger on the tabletop. Finally he said, "Why would I want to 'fix up' Midgar? Perhaps I like it just the way it is. Look, Highwind," he leaned forward and rested on a forearm, "I appreciate you looking after Reno, and I won't forget that. But you need to understand something about me. I'm not at your beck and call, and I do not appreciate being manipulated nor taken advantage of, much less coerced. Now, I do not know where you got your information in regards to my hypothetical need for mako, nor do I truly believe you fully understand what it is that you are asking of me." He smiled gently, and genuinely. "I appreciate your ambition, and if the authorities were a problem for me, then I would find your offer somewhat worthy of consideration, but they are not." His smile turned wry. "And while I do not trust a vast majority of my associates, I trust law enforcement even less. You could be wearing a wire even now." He knew Cid was not, but the blond didn't know he knew. He leaned back again in his chair. "I am curious, though. Just what _exactly_ do you expect me to do for _you_?"

Cid's job, as he had finally worked out during those weeks of waiting, was meaningless. He existed to keep Valentine occupied while bigger plans were made around him. He was a decoy, positioned to be removed from play whenever was most convenient.

"I'm nothin' but a fool, Valentine. Ain't worth nothin' t'nobody, least of all the people I call my superiors. I reckon it's easiest t'make a diff'rence that way, 'cause then they don't know somethin's changin' 'til it's changed fer good. You have no reason t'trust me; I have no reason t'depend on you. Except, o' course, that you're crucial t'this. An' whatever yer answer is," he whispered, leaning farther over the table, "the kid'll be back t'you t'night. I'll make sure o' that."

What did he expect Vincent to do for him? _What do I expect?_

"All I know is that somethin' needs t'change, an' all the major players need t'be playin' t'gether. An' like I said, I ain't nothin' now. I guess…I guess what I'm really askin' is fer your protection, so I c'n work m'way up an' take control on th'topside while you're keepin' the underside in order. I don't believe that you want things th'way they are now. An' if you really feel th'need t'search me fer a wire, go right ahead. I know you got somebody else here. I don't. I ain't armed, either. I just…I dunno. They c'n call the whole lot o' ya cutthroats, but I'd rather be in yer comp'ny than theirs."

"And why is that?" Vincent blinked lazily, his grin matching. While he appeared relaxed and nonchalant his mind was weighing the possibilities. "Do you have any idea how brutal my world is, Mr. Highwind? 'Cutthroat' is not far from the mark. Where your world is politics, mine is _bloody_ politics. Still," he grew thoughtful, cocking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. "You may yet prove useful to me. But I warn you that in my world everything is permanent. There are no 'do-overs', there is no going back and apologies very rarely, if ever, work." Highwind had charisma, Vincent thought, and to have a man, a puppet, on the inside in the highest echelon of law enforcement would indeed be useful. If he could survive, and that, Vincent figured, was where _he_ fit in. And if what Highwind was saying about the mako proved true, then he _could _get out from under Shinra and remove the slimy bastard from the picture permanently, while still achieving his end goal while acquiring Shinra's substantial monetary assets. It was a _very_ tempting carrot indeed. "I shall consider your offer Mr. Highwind. And as a show of good faith, I ask that you allow me to return you to your home and retrieve my associate. What say you?"

"You don't understand, Valentine. Wasn't ever a time I messed somethin' up when I didn't have another plan goin'." A lie, but Cid felt it was a fair one to tell. "There won't be any need fer do-overs. I might be nothin', but most o' the time I know exactly what I'm doin'. It's how t'get there that's been th'problem." _Not like they don't already know where I live. Still…._ "Don't be upset with the kid. He just wants t'make th'world a better place. At the end o' the day, I think that's what we all want. We just have diff'rent perspectives as to what 'better' is. I know exactly how brutal yer world can be, an' I know that some people ain't cut out t'be a part of it. Yeah, come get yer kid outta my house 'fore he raids the refrigerator again. He c'n eat, y'know that? Damn." Cid stood and pulled on his coat again, realizing only then that he had never ordered so much as a drink. That was just as well; he wouldn't have had time to drink it anyway.

Vincent smiled indulgently, amused that Highwind felt so confident about what he _thought_ he knew. As the cop gathered up his coat and put it on, his eyes sought out Tseng's, and he nodded slightly, once as he replaced his dark glasses and put a hundred _gil _note down on the table. His second quickly got up from the bar and walked parallel to them, threading his way around tables, as they made for the front door. Vincent grinned when he saw the cop pale and fidget with the tie on his trench coat at the appearance of Tseng. "Easy, Highwind," he chuckled, "as long as you stay on the _right_ side, my associate posses to threat to you." He turned to Tseng and said in a low voice, "We are returning Mr. Highwind to his home and retrieving Reno."

Tseng nodded briskly to both Vincent _and_ Cid before exiting the restaurant ahead of them, speaking softly into the lapel of his jacked and summoning Rude to pull the car around. Once it had arrived Tseng opened the door and indicated Cid get in first, with Vincent sliding in afterward. Tseng passed a cold, observant glance around the area one last time, before he climbed into the front passenger seat. Once settled and the car pulled away from the curb, Vincent said, "Mr. Highwind's residence if you please Mr. Rude. I believe Reno wants to come home."

Rude nodded and shifted direction accordingly. The following drive was a silent one, and Vincent sat and thought about the possibilities that were now available to him, going over pros and cons, until he turned his head to regard Cid Highwind thoughtfully. The cop sat staring out the window, his chin propped up on the palm of his hand and apparently lost to his own thoughts. The streetlights flashed across his rugged features, glinting off of his eyeglasses and Vincent saw something that he had missed before. _Green eyes_, he thought abruptly. _At Hollander's, the man I had bumped into when we were leaving after collecting Hollander's debt_. He frowned. So Highwind was tailing him, which meant that others had to have been as well, and he was willing to bet _Cerberus_ that the cop was at Hollander's the first time he and Tseng had paid a visit. He needed information. It seemed that the authorities were becoming more active as of late and he needed to _why._ _But there would be time for that_, he thought as the car pulled up alongside the curb outside Cid's apartment. He would see to it.

After they had all gotten out of the vehicle, and Highwind had begun walking up to let them into his apartment, Vincent turned his back to the cop and murmured to Tseng, "Have Rude drive somewhere else and wait for us. I don't want my car seen parked in front of this building. Not in _this _neighborhood. That's a complication I do not want to deal with." He paused Tseng's action, as his second bent to comply with his orders, with a touch to the man's elbow. "Tell him to keep his radio on and stay alert. No doubt there are other cops prowling around down here."

"Do you wish me to join you upstairs?" Tseng replied just as quietly.

"Yes, but wait a moment before coming up." Vincent smirked. "I think you make the cop nervous, and I want him a little more relaxed than he already pretends to be. We're invading his home and that tends to make people nervous, twitchy, and that's when accidents happen. I would prefer to avoid one if at all possible."

"Understood," Tseng said with a nod and they parted.

At Cid's confused look from he to Tseng as he walked up, Vincent smiled. "Tseng will be up shortly, he has some business to attend to," he lied smoothly.

Cid nodded hesitantly and opened the door. As they climbed the stairs of the old apartment building, Vincent, lip lifting in distaste, was careful not to touch more than was necessary. The floor was filthy and the walls were stained with he didn't even want to know what. There was trash jammed into corners, and a pervasive _odor_ that _might_ have been food at one point, but certainly didn't smell edible anymore. They stopped in front of a battered and scratched wooden door that looked as if it had been ripped off of its hinges by a kick-in more than once, and whose number – 302 – had a screw missing so that the "2" was upside down and read "307" instead. Cid had to jiggle the key for nearly thirty seconds before the lock finally gave and the door swung inward.

As they walked in and as Cid shut the door, Vincent looked around the extremely small dwelling. He was startled to see that it was surprisingly clean in comparison to the squalor of the hallway. There was a light lingering smell of cigarette smoke that he strangely didn't find offensive, some dirty dishes in the sink and old mail scattered in forgotten, mountainous piles over the tiny dining room/kitchen table, the stove's burners were rusty but the surface was clean, the ancient refrigerator was humming happily –and rather loudly– in the corner while the kitchen sink had a persistent and slow drip. Cid tossed his coat over a chair with an uneven leg, grinned lopsidedly and headed into the equally tiny "living room." There Vincent found a battered old television set with twisted wire hangers for rabbit ears on a broken TV stand held level by several thick books on law and aeronautical engineering, and he had to wonder _how_ those books even caught the cop's attention let alone made it back here to become an involuntary 'leg' for a TV stand. In the corner there was a ratty old armchair with burn holes in the arms and a frayed headrest, and two bookshelves filled with aviation books and cookbooks with a couple of old mystery novels wedged in between them, while the walls held a couple of old framed photographs of late-model airships.

Along the far wall stretched an old, worn-looking leather couch with a TV tray by one end of it, and by the looks of things Vincent was willing to bet that this was where the cop did most of his sleeping. It was here that Reno was stretched out and moaning softly, his face a mess of cuts and bruises. His white shirt was missing – Vincent had that – and he wore only his jacket, slacks and shoes. Kneeling by his side and dabbing at the wounds with what looked to be a washcloth was a lovely young woman, also wearing glasses. Upon seeing them she rose to her feet with a worried look at Reno, and clutching the washcloth to her chin. Vincent nodded to her and approached the couch to take her place on his knees by the semi-conscious young man. He removed his dark glasses and set them on the TV tray then placed his hands to either side of Reno's face. When he spoke his voice was gentle and patient. "Reno," he said as the redhead stilled a little. "Reno, can you hear me?"

"Uuuhhhgggnnn," Reno moaned, his legs continuing to slide up and down on the couch. The young man's hands came up to grip Vincent's wrists as his teal-colored eyes slowly focused upon his face while he blinked rapidly. "Boss?"

"Yes, it's me," Vincent said, grin still in place. "I've heard that you've gotten into quite a bit of trouble here lately."

"Awwww," Reno groaned again, this in shame. "I'm sorry boss, I didn't see it comin', I didn't think-"

"Shh," Vincent said, firming his grip a little on Reno's face. "We'll talk about it later. Right now the important thing is that you're all right." A brisk knock on the front door interrupted them and he jerked his head up, senses already reaching out to identify who was beyond it. Both Cid and the woman had jumped and the cop had somehow acquired a firearm from somewhere, but he already knew who it was. "That would be Tseng, let him in please." He turned back to Reno. "Can you sit up?"

"I-I think so." Reno said and with Vincent's help managed to get into a sitting position. "My face hurts."

Vincent chuckled. "I imagine so. I met the man who used your face as a punching bag and he's relatively muscle-bound," he said wryly.

"No shit," Reno said groggily, rubbing his bruised jaw. "What happened?"

"I knocked him out," Vincent replied. "Just backhanded him right into the wall. I tell you, who really puckered my ass was that runt who talked too much. I nearly broke his neck."

"Poor bastard," Reno laughed. "I know exactly how he felt."

Cid was much more uncomfortable than he liked to admit, and he was genuinely sorry for involving Shera in this. He tugged her into the kitchen area, setting the washcloth under the faucet to quiet the dripping. "Sher, I- you c'n go home if y'want. If shit goes down, I don't want y't'be here."

"I'll be all right," Shera said, placing a hand on his arm.

Head dropping onto his other hand as he began the familiar habit of massaging his temples, Cid sighed, "That ain't th'point. I shouldn't've asked y't'stay with 'im."

"Someone had to, Cid," she answered, and her voice was gentle as she wrestled his hand away from his face. "Stop doing that. It gets fingerprints on your lenses."

"I can't help it!" he snapped, then sighed again. "It didn't hafta be you. But I wouldn't really trust nobody else with it, not even Aerith. Well, if y're gonna stay…boil us some tea?"

"The usual, or the good stuff?"

Cid considered this. He shouldn't tell her to prepare anything for people who might not even stay to enjoy it, but… "Yeah, the good stuff. Good thinkin', kid."

"Sure thing." Shera winked and set about gathering cups.

Cid reentered the living room and winced at the sight of his three…guests…huddled on his couch. "I, uh…m'sorry it ain't much. I…y're all more'n welcome t'stay fer tea. How ya doin' t'day, kid? Y'look a little better."

"Don't feel much better," Reno grumbled back, shaking his head lightly. "Hey, listen…you didn't hafta keep me here. That was…well, thanks, I guess," he finished after some gentle prodding from Tseng.

_Yeah, I did, actually…_ "Well, y'sure weren't fit t'be tryin'a go anywhere. Toldja I'd getcha home, didn't I?"

The "kid" nodded and smiled a tiny, dry smile that made Cid's heart ache for some reason.

"Look, I…" Cid trailed off, shaking his head. He had never been embarrassed before by the state of his home or the neighborhood around it…not that he had ever had many guests. And really, he shouldn't care one bit what these people thought, these people who had likely passed judgment on him long before seeing where and how he lived. Still, with Valentine's unshielded, appraising eyes taking in everything, it was hard not to feel self-conscious. He shuffled his feet and stared at the floor, unsure of whether the intrusion or simply Valentine's presence that made him uncomfortable. "M'sorry I don't have more t'offer y'all, that's all. I uh …make yerselves at home, I guess. I- tea's almost ready, so I hope y'll stay for it."

He dragged over a chair from the kitchen table and sat backwards in it, facing the three men on his couch who were at the same time less frightening and more intimidating than the three who had visited him a few nights ago. "You all don't think very much o' me, do ya? Can't say I blame ya. But I ain't trash," he finished firmly, determined for some reason to defend himself in the face of comments that did not exist.

Vincent opened his mouth to speak but it was Tseng who beat him to it, surprising him, because the stoic Wutaian usually never bothered to involve himself in interactions beyond their own circle. "It is not our place to pass judgment upon you, Mr. Highwind, until we have all the facts. Often how a man lives does not adequately nor accurately reflect his true character. Rather it is his deeds that do, and your obvious attempt to care for Reno tells me that you are a man of honor."

Vincent sat back, his lips quirked up in a smile as he looked thoughtfully at his second. "That's the most I've heard you speak, Tseng, to someone other than myself or Reno and Rude."

"I speak when I have something to say or the individual is worth my time." Tseng huffed curtly. "Shut your mouth, Reno."

"Indeed," Vincent said, catching Cid's eye and giving him an amused wink, while Reno continued to gape openly at Tseng.

Just then, Shera came into the sitting room, carrying a laden tray. "Tea's ready!" She said merrily and began to distribute the mugs. Vincent took a sip just as Tseng did and both of their heads came up abruptly to look at Cid, rather surprised.

"Wutaian." Vincent said, and Tseng nodded appreciatively. "I haven't had Wutaian tea since I left that country." He shared a look with Tseng, then turned back to regard Cid with a newfound respect. "This is genuine and _extremely_ difficult to come by. Where did you find this?"

Acceptance, or what passed for it, somehow made Cid even more fidgety than he had been while waiting for one of them to say something deprecating. He shuddered in something between confusion and revulsion when Valentine winked at him; that was honestly on his list of odd experiences he did not want repeated, and he very quickly looked away. Before commenting at all, he took a sip of his tea, making a face at the flavor. He truly did not enjoy the stuff and would gladly have tossed these men the entire case just the way gourmet foods often found their way into a basket for Shera instead of onto Cid's plate. Finally he replied to the question: "A gift from a good friend o' mine. She knows I like tea, an' she came across it on one o' her trips. Don't really care fer it, but I haven't gotten rid of it. Figgered it'd come in handy one o' these days," he drawled. "Guess that's t'day. Sher, you gonna have some?"

"Not tonight, Cid, sorry. I promised Johnny I'd be home tonight. You know he sometimes still suspects?"

"No shit? Damn, he's one stubborn sonuvabitch. Well, tell 'im g'night for me. I don't- I don't s'pose one o' y'all could make sure she gets home safe?" he asked. "Usually if it's this late, she just stays. Ain't safe t'be walkin' around this place alone, 'specially in th'dark."

"Cid, you know I'll be fine," Shera fussed, pulling on her coat. "Haven't I always been?"

"Hasn't he always come t'pick you up?" He turned and glared at the group of men on the couch, daring them to side with her. "At least help me talk some sense into 'er."

Tseng snorted and Reno laughed outright. "Ya can't talk sense into a woman, man. Haven't ya learned that?"

"Easy, Reno." Vincent said with a sigh and stood up, the other two getting up as well. "Actually, we really ought to be going." He carried his mug into the kitchen, followed by Tseng and Reno, and stood by Shera at the door. He looked at the young woman and smiled gently. "We would be happy to take you home, madam. A woman has no business walking alone in this neighborhood at night."

Shera blushed and nodded, looking down at the ground. Tseng opened the door and left first after a nod to Cid, followed by Shera and then Reno who gave the cop a lopsided grin and two fingered salute in farewell.

Vincent stood and looked at Cid for a long moment before he nodded and said, "I'll consider your offer, Highwind. And I would suggest that _you_ consider what I said. Are you ready to sign you soul away to the devil? Because that's exactly what you would be doing." Then he gave a small bend at the waist and said, "I'll be in touch." Before turning away and following the others down the stairs and out of the building to the waiting vehicle outside.

"Soul?" Cid wondered aloud. "Can't remember how long it's been since I had one o' them." Melancholy, he flopped onto the couch and noticed a familiar pair of dark glasses. He picked them up in the same careless way he handled his own. Shera, no doubt, would have griped at him about fingerprints.

He looked thoughtfully at them as if they held the key to understanding the man who wore them, but upon learning nothing, set them back on the TV tray where Valentine had left them. Cid fell asleep scowling at them.


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter gets a little more dark, but it's not too graphic. Those sensitive to mistreatment of employees may want to skip the part below the line break.

* * *

Lazard Deusericus was a busy man. One thing he certainly did not have time for was Scarlet trying to finagle him into doing more of her dirty work.

"Cid," he sighed, spying the man entering his office. "You know I-"

"Ain't fer her this time," Cid said quickly, striding into the office and taking the seat across the desk from Lazard without being invited.

Valentine's suspicions had apparently been raised (Cid couldn't _imagine_ why), so everyone tailing him –except Aerith; no one suspected her of anything- had been temporarily reassigned. Zack and Tifa had been given new targets. Cid had been demoted to courier. After all, someone had to run the meaningless errands no one else had time for.

And, as he was inclined to do, Cid had found a way to take advantage of his new position.

"Is that so?" Lazard asked, dubious expression in place.

Cid glanced around furtively, one of the actions that often led him to getting his cover entirely blown. "Come have lunch with me."

Lazard nodded, sighed, and cancelled his hair appointment. When Cid got serious, you listened, and that was the end of that.

In a noisy corner of a small café, Cid began his explanation.

"She wants t'get Valentine out. I wanna bring 'im t'the top an' get rid o' ShinRa. I c'n get 'im down, but I can't keep 'im down, y'know? An' she's after you too, t'get Vin- Valentine outta her way. She thinks she c'n control ShinRa, that's the thing. We know she can't an' that he'll gladly bring ever'body down with 'im if he gets what he an' she both want. You followin'?"

"I follow. But Cid…you know how good the chances are of what you're asking."

"A hell of a lot better now that Valentine's involved."

"Involved…? What do you mean?"

Cid considered how to answer this; Lazard had always been his friend, but there was nothing stopping him from changing his mind and running to Scarlet. "You ever met these three dudes? Silver hair, one bulky, one pretty, th'other one a goddam blabbermouth?"

"I have, actually, but I had convinced myself they were a product of too many work hours."

"Heh. I'd'a tried that m'self if they hadn't dragged in one o' Valentine's boys an' set up a meetin'. Had th'whole crew over fer tea an' all that!" he said proudly, stretching the truth just enough to make it sound impressive.

Lazard sighed and shook his head at the excitable man across from him. "You realize how dangerous these men can be?"

"Yeah, I know. But that don't make 'em bad, y'know? Anybody c'n be dangerous under th'right circumstances."

Lazard didn't really think that was the point, but he wasn't going to argue. Instead, he began eating the pasta on his plate and making an effort to enjoy it even though it was severely undercooked. Cid really did have poor taste in food.

------ Meanwhile: A day later and halfway across Midgar's lower plates ----------

"It's a good offer, sir." Tseng said from his position on the couch where he idly examined legal documents.

"Hn," Vincent murmured absently. It had been two days since his meeting with the cop, Cid Highwind, and for those two days his mind had been torn regarding which action to take. His current position left him answerable only to ShinRa and allowed him the freedom to continue doing his business in a manner he chose. The downside? Rufus's moods and insatiable sadistic desires that the man kept fed by exploiting his need for mako that only Hojo could supply…and Rufus could retrieve. Cid Highwind on the other hand was offering the same mako without the sick sexual payments, as far as he knew. And the drawbacks there? He would be providing protection to a cop, which would eventually get around to his business associates and various contacts, and make them even jumpier than they already were. _Plus_ he would have to divert manpower that he didn't have to watching the cop's back to make sure he stayed out of trouble. And he would have to be even _more_ careful in his business transactions as cops could not be trusted, _especially '_bought' cops. If word got out – and it was only a matter of time before it did– that Highwind was in his back pocket, then the authorities would have one more tool to use against him, and even _if_ they cut Highwind loose, the cop would have more surveillance on him than a stray dog had fleas. That would then render Highwind beyond useless. It would make him a liability, and Vincent would have no choice but to remove the cop from the picture…permanently. That in turn would then leave him no way to get his mako unless he crawled back to ShinRa, and that was something he would_ never _do. When he burned that bridge, he would also disintegrate the cliff it had rested upon. When he parted from ShinRa, he was destroying the bastard as he left.

Tseng quietly clearing his throat brought Vincent's mind back to the present. "I think you ought to accept it, Vincent."

"Have you even _considered_ all the consequences to that if I did, Tseng?" Vincent asked, turning his head away from where he had been staring sightlessly out the window, to look at his second.

"You know I have." Tseng's eyes flashed angrily.

"Then you know that I simply do _not_ have the resources to make that arrangement work, and why I cannot accept it."

"If anybody could make it work, Vincent, you could," Tseng said firmly, staring levelly at his friend. "This would be your chance – the one you admittedly were waiting for – to get out from under Mr. ShinRa."

Vincent sighed heavily, and rubbed his eyes, but otherwise remained silent.

"And that's not all," Tseng said, his voice troubled.

"Really," Vincent said wryly, only reluctantly returning to his work. What difference would more bad news make now? His life seemed to be made of it recently.

"My contacts have informed me that Mr. ShinRa's confidence has spiked recently."

"Yes, well, Rufus lives in a constant state of PMS, Tseng," Vincent said without looking up. "His moods fluctuate alarmingly fast."

"Well, apparently he has a reason to be confident," Tseng said seriously.

_That_ got his attention. "And this reason being…?" Vincent paused in his writing and looked up at Tseng, a frown pulling his lips down.

"It would seem that Reno has overheard one of Mr. ShinRa's phone calls. Small blessing of having a nosy redhead on the payroll."

"And this affects me how?" Vincent raised an eyebrow, striving for patience. "With _whom _was he speaking?"

"Scarlet," Tseng replied flatly.

"That _son of a bitch_," Vincent growled, sitting up straighter and slamming his pen down on his desk, eyes flashing gold briefly before returning to their normal crimson.

"I had a few more…colorful choice words in mind, sir, but I must say that I have to agree with you."

Vincent leaned back slowly in his chair, steepled his fingers and narrowing his eyes. The game had just changed. Rufus' little 'social call' had just kicked Highwind's offer from "it was a generous offer, but no thanks", right on over into "where do I sign?" Vincent nodded once to Tseng. "Bring him in."

As Tseng was leaving his office, the man was nearly plowed over by a beautiful redheaded woman, only just managing to get out of the way in time as she brushed past him as if she owned the place. The near-collision didn't faze her. Neither, apparently, did a flustered redheaded man who tried in vain to stop her.

"Boss, I'm sorry. I tried t' stop her, but…" Reno stammered glaring balefully at his intruder.

Vincent held up his hand, and Reno stopped talking, and with an expression of immense gratitude backed out of the office, shutting the door quietly behind him and Tseng. "And to what do I owe the displeasure of this visit, my dear?" he asked in mild amusement.

"Oh darlink! You break my heart!" The woman said, in a heavily accented and sultry voice. If Vincent didn't know her as well as he did, he would have found her sexy as hell. But Rosso 'The Crimson', though beautiful, was about as lovable and trustworthy as an angry pit viper…and twice as deadly.

"And I would be stricken with remorse if you actually had a heart to break, my love," he answered mildly.

"Is dat any way to talk to your future wife?" she sniffed, and affected a most convincing pout.

"I would consider it if I did not think you would murder me in our wedding bed, my sweetest."

At that she threw her head back and laughed, swaying elegantly over to the large bank of windows to look down at the bustling city below. Vincent took a moment to watch her and appreciate the way she wore the female form. Dressed in a figure-fitting red pants suit, her flawless pale skin gleamed in the light and her elaborately styled hair shone with silken radiance. _Yes_, Vincent thought, _if I didn't think she'd slit my throat, she would indeed be a worthy prize._ She was curvy in all the right places, with long legs and a sculpted backside, and he would freely admit to being prone to distraction when presented with the fullness of her breasts. But he wasn't interested in looking for a matricidal mate. He sighed and said, "Forgive me for being blunt, my dear, but why are you here?"

"How can you vork in this city, Vincent?" she asked disdainfully, flicking her hand towards the skyline beyond the window. "It's so…dirty. Your talents are vasted here!"

Vincent ground his teeth silently at the ease with which she was so casual with informalities. It irritated him, which was precisely why she continued to do it. And so he refused to stand when she entered the room. "Please answer my question, Rosso. I'm not in the mood to play games today."

At that she whirled on him, startling him, and pinned him with a stare that was no nearly like his own it actually creeped him out a little. "Weiss is most displeased," she said dangerously. "He does not appreciate being cheated."

Vincent blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh do not play innocent vith me, Vincent. Either give us the mako you promised us, or a full refund. I vould hope you choose the former, as the latter vould not end vell for you." She walked forward, her hips swaying in a fashion that completely belied the intent in her smoldering eyes.

"One moment!" Vincent just managed to keep from spluttering as he reeled from her attack. His mind scrambled for answers. "If you are referring to the latest shipment, I oversaw the packing of those crates myself!"

Rosso crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side as she studied his face. Finally she relaxed and nodded. "Your eyes do not lie. Ve thought as much. But it vould appear that someone is skimming your mako. You may vant to correct the problem, darlink."

Vincent wasn't fooled. She _appeared_ relaxed and considerably friendly, but if he didn't watch it, he could just as easily end up with a stiletto in his throat. "I agree. I will look into this personally, and send you a compensatory shipment of mako on the next transport with a sincere apology."

"Good," Rosso said, tipping her head back and looking down her nose at him haughtily. "Weiss and Nero have placed a lot of faith in you, Vincent. You have yet to fail them; see that it stays that vey, da?"

Vincent inclined his head. "I shall make every effort to see that that does not happen."

Rosso smiled, this time with more warmth. "You are a smart man, Vincent. Good day." And with the bluntness known to those who hailed from Modeoheim, Rosso turned and let herself out.

Only after the door shut did Vincent allow himself to relax completely, surprised at how tense being in the same room with Rosso had made him. _Could this get any worse?_ He thought, lowering his head to rest it on his arms. As if in answer to that damning, internal question, his intercom beeped. Sitting up, he hit the 'receive' button and snapped, "What!"

He was met with a chilly silence that caused his gut to tighten with dread. "My office…_now_," came Rufus' glacial voice, followed by an ominous click as the intercom link was terminated. Vincent groaned and thumped his head back down onto his desk. He'd just _had_ to ask.

* * *

With all the enthusiasm of a condemned man on his way to his execution, he stood and exited his office. It took a while for him to reach Rufus' office, having elected to have his own as far away from Shinra as possible. As he stood in front of those massive double doors he took a moment to attempt to still his racing heart. He would be damned if was going to show Rufus just how much the man affected him. Finally, when he felt he was suitably calm, he knocked once and let himself into the spider's lair.

"You wished to see me, sir," he said in a low voice, which suited the equally low lighting in Rufus's office.

Looking up from his desk, Rufus smirked and leaned back in his chair. "Why yes, Valentine, I did. I wonder if you might explain to me just_ how_ you managed to let one of your men get kidnapped by the competition?"

Vincent frowned, not comprehending what Rufus was saying. "Excuse me, sir? Competition?"

"Surely you didn't expect me to _not_ find out about Riku's little…"

"Reno," Vincent corrected flatly.

"Whatever!" Rufus snapped, not appreciating Vincent's interruption in the least. "…_Reno's_ little run-in with the Triplets."

"How do you-"Vincent began, but Rufus talked right over him.

"I give you great freedom, Valentine, in which to conduct business. One would expect care be taken to maintain such a privilege," Rufus said, leveling a cold, disapproving stare on Vincent. "Because of your slack-witted man, you threaten my very organization. You might as well start carrying a sign: 'My name is Vincent, and I am openly breaking the law.'"

"Don't tempt me…" Vincent muttered.

Rufus sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes. "_What_ was that, Valentine?"

Vincent lowered his head obediently and said, "Nothing, sir."

"You're damned right it's 'nothing.' _You're _nothing. You keep trying my patience and continue to grow bolder with your back-talking. I should not need to have this discussion with you. Maybe _I_ need to have a talk with this _Reno_ to impress upon him the need to be careful."

"That will not be necessary, sir. Reno has been disciplined, and you need not interfere with something so beneath you," Vincent lied smoothly. He feared what would happen to Reno if Rufus ever got a hold of the young man. Reno felt badly as it was, and often enough the guilt of an individual tended to be his own worst punishment. When Rufus did not say anything further, only kept staring at him, Vincent said, "If that is all, sir, then I'll just be going, as I have much work to do." He turned and walked to the door, only to freeze, his hand on the heavy doorknob, when he heard the sound of a zipper being drawn down in the thick silence.

"Where do you think you're going?" Rufus asked easily. "I have _not_ dismissed you."

Vincent swallowed hard and shut his eyes tightly. He had to force himself to remove his hand from the doorknob.

"Do you think that was the real reason I asked you here? I could care less if someone offs one of your fuck-twits. I have a much better use for your mouth than listening to your insolence."

"You're sick, do you know that?" Vincent murmured without turning around. He swallowed convulsively as he fought a sudden, light-headed flare of nausea as he began to unbutton his shirt. He removed both his jacket and his shirt, laying them on the expensive couch next to the door that he leaned forward to lock. He removed his shoes and placed them neatly by the door then turned to face Shinra. "_Everything_ I do for you, and you humiliate me like this."

"Aww, poor Vincent," Rufus laughed mockingly. "This is just another part of your job description, Valentine." He sneered, swiveling his chair to the side and snapping his fingers at Vincent. "You're just a tool to used, a disposable resource. You're a _whore_, Valentine. A whore to your precious mako, now get over here on your knees and act like one."

Vincent finished stripping and did as he was told, shame and nausea burning brightly within him. And as he knelt in between Rufus's legs, and got to work, struggling to detach himself from what he was doing and just survive it. As the bile threatened to burn his throat, he realized with dread that he was beginning to believe what Rufus said about him.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Cid had gone to work, and had immediately been sent back out. Palmer had, unbelievably, sent him for donuts. Knowing Palmer would expect a full dozen for himself, along with about fifteen gil in change, Cid used said change to buy two donuts for himself. He would claim later that they had upped the price. Palmer would grumble but not approach the shop owner, and he would probably forget about his change during the tirade as well.

That was, in fact, pretty much how it went. Cid handed over the box and reached into his pocket for the change, commenting offhandedly that Palmer would only be receiving twelve gil instead of the usual.

"Upped the price? I'm three gil short! We ought to put them out of business! Highwind! Go complain."

"Yessir."

"Tell them I'm their best customer and they'd better not forget it."

"Yessir."

"What are you still doing here? Go!"

"Yessir."

Cid pocketed the change and returned home instead. He would shower –he hadn't had time that morning- and then come back, telling Palmer that the owner had agreed that the original price was best.

After finishing his shower, Cid took notice of Valentine's glasses, still sitting on his TV tray. They seemed to be smiling at him, grinning with the glare from the lights in the kitchen. He folded them onto his collar and, whistling, left his apartment for the second time that day, locking the door behind him.

When he was more than halfway to work, Cid caught sight of a dark vehicle, familiar in size, off to his right. Instinct had him speed up to get away, but only a split second later, the training took over and caused him to slow his step to a casual walk.

As the vehicle approached him, he finally remembered that Valentine had promised to "be in touch," but had never clarified how. Sighing, Cid stepped closer to the vehicle and raised a hand at the driver in greeting.

The black, heavily tinted rear passenger window rolled down to reveal Tseng's unreadable face. "Mr. Valentine requests your presence, Mr. Highwind. Please get into the vehicle."

"Figured as much. A' right, let's go." Cid climbed into the vehicle from the other side and glanced around at the interior. "S'dark in here. C'n I maybe roll down a window or somethin'?"

"No," Tseng said evenly, tilting his head to pin Cid with an apparently blank stare. "Mr. Valentine prefers his business to stay private. You would do well to remember that, sir."

"Right. Well, reckon I shouldn't smoke then, either, on account o' it'd stink up this place. Pretty nice, so I wouldn't wanna do that. Anything else I oughta remember?"

A muscle in Tseng's jaw began to twitch. "Stupidity, sir, pulls a trigger faster than does a finger. Mr. Valentine does not abide stupidity, and his patience for such things is short."

"I'll keep that in mind," Cid said grimly. "Say," he started, leaning in toward Tseng, "you look pretty tense t'day. More'n normal, I mean. Somethin' big go down?"

Tseng just stared at Highwind, convinced that he didn't hear the cop right. He couldn't even justify answering that question, let alone considering it. Right now, he couldn't believe that he was pushing Vincent to accept this man's offer! Cid Highwind…was an idiot.

Cid blinked. Clearly this man was not going to respond to the persona he presented at work. It made sense; this man, unlike Palmer, was no fool. He sighed and brought his hand to his temple, again smudging his glasses in the process. "Look, it's easier t'act like that when I don't have a clue what's goin' on, all right? If I put m'self inta that mindset, the one I use at work that keeps me from goin' crazy an' killin' people an' shit, then it don't matter if I feel helpless, 'cause that guy is, y'know? But the guy who's doin' business with Valentine, he don't like bein' helpless. I ain't the fool y'think I am. Sometimes I wish I was."

Tseng's eyebrow rose, but his expression otherwise did not change. Highwind was rather…verbal, and he didn't think Vincent would have much use for the man if he didn't learn to control his mouth. The cop also was too quick with the assurances of his own intentions and that made Tseng wary…and very suspicious. But he trusted Vincent, and knew from much experience that the man he called his 'boss' would easily see through Highwind's charade, if there was one. "We shall see, sir," was all Tseng said in reply.

"You…you ain't the nicest guy on the block, are ya? Well, I reckon I oughta expect that. 'Course, the nice guy on the block usually turns out t'be the serial killer or some shit like that…but then, you are technic'ly the bad guy, so that'd work, really. Uh…well, whatever. You don't think too much o' me, do ya?" Cid asked, having quite reluctantly cut off his rambling in favor of another attempt at conversation.

"What I think is ultimately irrelevant. It is Mr. Valentine whom you need to convince of your intentions, Mr. Highwind." Tseng said softly. He then turned his head to stare at the cop. "But a word of advice? Do not lie to him, for he will smell it, and do not betray him unless you seek a swift death."

"I ain't gonna betray 'im. Guess you have no reason t'believe that, seein' as what I'm doin' now is betrayin' the people I work with, but I won't. An' I certainly hope not t'lie to 'im. Shit, I don't know if I could. S'somethin' in the way he looks atcha that just makes ya change yer mind when y're about to." Cid sighed and stared out the window, facing away from Tseng. "So, uh, are we there yet?"

"Shortly, sir." Tseng rested his elbow on the sill of the window, his eyes growing distant, and his voice soft and sad. "He has been betrayed enough. See that you do not."

Cid could only stare silently after that, stunned by the statement and the demeanor that accompanied it. "We all have," he told Tseng as he descended from the vehicle a few moments later. "Once is already more'n enough. The world betrays us the minute we're born, seems like, an' then we go around hurtin' each other in revenge fer that. I don't ever wanna be that kind o' man. Frankly, I – I'm glad y'care about 'im. Everybody needs somebody t'care about 'em. How's this- I'll give you my word right now that I'll never betray 'im, an' you promise me y'll keep on bein' good to 'im."

Tseng stood and silently scrutinized the cop. He spoke prettily, but Tseng had been around enough people who had had silver tongues and black hearts. He could choose to dismiss Highwind's promise or he could choose to believe it. He took a risk, and chose to believe it. Tseng nodded slowly and held out his hand. The cop looked at him as though he had grown three heads and Tseng gave him a cold smile, before shaking his hand. Satisfied, he turned and began walking. "This way, Mr, Highwind."

After a few moments of walking in silence, Cid remembered something. "Say, how's the kid?"

Startled, Tseng paused and looked back over his shoulder. He hadn't expected that question. "He is recovering quickly. We will not forget your treatment of him." He turned back around and they walked the rest of the way down the hallway they were traversing in silence. When they came to a heavy wooden door, he knocked loud and briskly, twice then opened it for Highwind. Motioning with his arm he said, "He is expecting you. And Mr. Highwind?" He said as the cop began to walk past him. "Remember my advice."

Several hours and a blackening eye and bruised jaw and throat later, found Vincent standing in front of the large window of his office, hands clasped behind his back and waiting for Cid Highwind to arrive. Below his calm exterior, he seethed. He could _still_ taste Rufus in his mouth despite having brushed his teeth three times. He felt dirty, cheap and helpless; three feelings he decidedly _did not_ like.

Vincent smelled the old cigarette smoke before he heard the man clear his throat. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Highwind." He said softly without turning around. He looked down at the people walking below the tower, then up to study a slowly passing airship. "After careful consideration, I have decided to accept your offer." He turned then to regard the cop wearily. "That is if it still remains on the table?" At Highwind's startled look and wary nod, Vincent flashed a small smile. "Excellent," he said, striding around to sit at his desk. "But before we finalize this little contract of ours, I believe we need to clarify just what is being offered here, as well as the terms of…payment." He couldn't keep the hard edge from his voice at the mention of payment, but ShinRa had taught him well.

Cid had begun to shrug off his coat upon entering the room, and he draped it over the chair that he never got around to sitting in. His fists clenched reflexively when Valentine had turned to face him. The concept of someone strong enough and gutsy enough to cause him such damage startled Cid momentarily…and then he remembered Shinra. Certainly neither gutsy nor strong, but in a position of power nonetheless. In short, a coward. _If they decide t'kill the sonofabitch, they'd better let me get one in._

His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment or two as he struggled to remember what conversation they were having. He knew he looked foolish, but there was nothing he could do about it. "I…payment?" _Oh, god, is that what that is? Payment? Whaddaya want me to say? That I'll get you what you need, but in return fer that, you spread yer legs for me once a month an' take whatever I give ya like a good boy? Is that what he wants from ya? Fuck…Fuck…. _"Fuck. Shit." Fists still balled, Cid walked to the window Vincent had just abandoned. He pounded both fists softly against the glass once, then let his forehead drop onto the cool pane.

He had seen worse than this. He had known worse than this. Why it affected him so much, he could not say. He only knew that he was offended for this man, hurt for his dignity and mourning for his pride. His eyes, so mysteriously painful before, made perfect sense now. They told Cid the story of those bruises, the quality of his voice, and the winces at the light. He stepped away from the window and up to Valentine, removed the glasses from his shirt, and slid them gently onto Valentine's face, pushing back hair when it got in the way. "Sorry 'bout th'fingerprints. I never can get glasses on right, even though I been havin' these goin' on five years. Anyhow, maybe yer head won't hurt s'much if th'light ain't botherin' ya," he said in a small voice.

He did not fear Vincent Valentine, but he was unnerved by him, as if being around him left one in the presence of something much greater than a man. So, after boldly leaning over to gently kiss the taller man's cheek, he stepped back, saying, "An' maybe y'll heal faster now. Momma useda say that worked, but I can't say I've ever really tried it m'self, an' I don't remember so good if it really worked for her. I reckon it don't, but…s'the thought that counts."

And now that he was babbling, Cid figured he might as well move on to the real topic at hand. "Right. Payment. You do your job –keepin' everybody off my back while I clean out the system, an' helpin' me outsmart 'em, 'cause there ain't no way I c'n do that m'self- and I'll get you your meds. S'as simple as that. I ain't gonna ask no questions, an' I'm gonna keep it all as impersonal as possible. I know you don't wanna work with me, no matter how p'lite you are about it, so I ain't gonna try t'be 'one o' the guys' or whatever." Cid sighed. "An' y'c'n start with this: I am gonna be in deep shit when I get back. I was on m'way t'work when yer boys picked me up. Palmer ain't s'smart, so I'd be damn grateful if you fellas could come up with a way t'fix this one. It'll all be over if 'e suspects me o' doin' anything but what 'e tells me to, an' I don't think any of us can afford that."

After a brief moment of consideration, Cid squatted down and placed his hand on Valentine's arm. "I wouldn't dream of askin' fer more'n what I deserve. I wouldn't ever even dream of askin' what he asks." _I'm sure I don't know th'whole story, but what I c'n see is bad enough._

Oh, but he _would_ dream of it. He would, and it shamed him so deeply that he finally looked away as he stood, breaking eye contact with Valentine for the first time since he had handed over the glasses.

"Well, if that's it for now, I prob'ly oughta get on back. Thank y'fer yer time, Valentine." He removed his hand from Valentine's arm and extended it for a shake, glancing once more, sadly, at the defeated man in front of him. No, not defeated. He only pretended at being defeated so he could rise to the top. Just the same, he was exhausted, lonely, and wretched. Cid wanted to give him rest as much as he wanted to take his own. "It must be so cold where you are," he said softly. "Reckon I'll leave m'jacket just in case y'need it sometime."

There, an open invitation to see Cid again if he had the urge. Not that many had such urges; most wanted to avoid him for the most part. But they could talk, perhaps, over the returning of the jacket. Maybe they would have tea again.

Inwardly, Cid snorted. This man did not want to be his _friend_. He was amazed that even the cold calculation of the city of Midgar had not been enough to crush his romantic's soul entirely.

Such a pitiful existence. Such a hopeless world. Was the rest of the world like this as well?

Vincent looked at Highwind's outstretched hand, a frown creasing his brow. "Sit," he growled, and when the cop just stood there and blinked at him, he slapped his hand down on the table, making the man jump. "_Sit!_" he barked. As soon as the cop had sidled around his desk to sit nervously in the chair across from him, Vincent very slowly and carefully removed the returned glasses from his face, folded them and set them down on the desk. He studied them as they lay there, frown still in place. His mind was a jumble of emotions. He was furious at ShinRa and what the man made him do, and did _to_ him. He was angry at this cop who came marching in here like he owned the place and dictated the terms as though Vincent was little more than a brainless employee. In that regard he was no better than ShinRa. But it broke his heart, moved him in such a way that was completely foreign to him, when Highwind had touched him so gently and kissed him without hesitation or ulterior motive other than to offer comfort. And finally he was oddly impressed at Highwind's guts…or perhaps stupidity, surrounding the bold demands he was making.

Finally he looked at Highwind. "First and foremost, let us understand that _I_ asked you here for this meeting, therefore _I_ dictate when you get to leave, and I am not yet finished with you. Secondly, you _deserve_ nothing. You march in here making demands of me and I have no proof whatsoever that you are going to uphold your end of the deal." He leaned forward and his voice became strained. "And do _not_ presume to know what arrangements were made between ShinRa and myself. You _grossly_ overstep your boundaries, Mr. Highwind. Now, that being said, let us move on to business." Vincent leaned back in his chair as he continued to eye Cid Highwind. "Now, you offer to supply me with the mako formulation that I require in return for my protection. I am willing to fulfill that obligation as best I can, but you must understand that I am currently limited in both manpower and funds. But there is something else I require, and I am willing to pay for it. You may even name your price, provided it is within reason. I want information. _Reliable_ information. I know your position within the force and know that no one considers you either an asset nor competent. That puts you in a unique position. People's tongues loosen around non-essentials. Likewise no one will notice you as you move among them. I am willing to take a gamble with you, Mr. Highwind. Something inside…call it my intuition if you will…seems to want to assure me that you are in fact _quite_ intelligent and _very _competent, otherwise we would not be having this conversation. You strike me as tenacious; perhaps it is the fact that you are physically unable to shut your mouth that has clued me in to that little fact. But regardless of what it is, you are in a position to get me what I want. What say you?"

"I say it don't sound much diff'rent from my every day." The glasses came off, and Cid returned to rubbing his temples. "Street urchins put prices on information, Valentine. I'd like t'think we're better'n that." _Non-essential. Almost sounds like a respectable job title when _he_ says it. I'm gonna have a separate office when I'm in charge, hire a bunch o' nobodies call 'em 'non-essentials.' _

"Look, I'll give ya what I can, but there's some's already on the alert around me. Mostly 'cause I screw up too much. They ain't likely t'spill stuff around me no more."

His head ached. It always did when he tried to get his eyes to focus without his glasses. "M'sorry if I made you uncomf'table," he said grudgingly. "You asked a question, an' I went straight inta answerin' it. Well, I guess maybe I detoured a little…but all o' that, Valentine, was the closest t'bein' honest with ya anybody could ever be. I hope you can appreciate that fer what it is, even if y'don't like it much. I know y'don't want nothin' t'do with me, but I don't think anything I do c'n change that. All I c'n ask is that we learn t'treat each other like equals. If you c'n pick me up whenever it's convenient fer you, I c'n leave when I want just as easily. Like I said, neither of us are gonna get very much outta this if I lose my job over it."

Vincent shut his eyes. His head was beginning to hurt, his jaw ached and really all he wanted to do was to return to his quarters and pour himself a stiff drink. He sighed and said, "Do you think I am unaware of how information is traded, Highwind? I am not naïve. _Nothing_ in this business is free, there are no gifts, and there is no trust. Not without some sort of leverage to protect yourself with. Grow up, Highwind. This is precisely _why_ no one likes you and you cannot get above the bottom. You are simply too trusting and you lack true ambition." He stopped and tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling. "I cannot believe that I am talking to you about this. What am I, a _therapist_?" Screw waiting until he got home, he needed a drink _now_. Getting up he walked over to his minibar and poured a glass of vodka. He looked up at the cop who was scowling at him. "Can I offer you a drink?" He wasn't surprised when Highwind shook his head. He muttered, "This is _supposed_ to be _business_." Walking back to his desk he sat back down. He set his glass down and leaned forward onto his arms. "Look, I appreciate your being honest with me. It's as refreshing as it is unexpected. And if I didn't know better, I could have sworn you had talked to Tseng before coming in here. He seems to approve of you. I however am a little harder to sway. Let me clarify myself, Mr. Highwind. The kind of information I want is a little more significant than who went into what building and who is sleeping with whom. The kind of information I am looking for will impact careers and end lives. Are you willing to participate in that?"

_You think I don't realize all this? Why the hell do you think I care so much about changin' it?_ "S'cuse me fer not bein' as stupid as you think I am, but I understand that you're not lookin' fer that kind of information. You wanted that, y'd only have t'pick up tabloids in the checkout line. An' believe it or not, I'm willin' to trust you, an' it has nothin' t'do with bein' naïve. Has to do with survival. You know all about that, dontcha?" he spat, feeling more venomous than he ever had toward this man. "Now if y're quite done bein' a fuckin' drama queen, I'd appreciate it if we could just get on with this. I've already said I'd do it. I've already given my word. I ain't gonna back on ya now, later, or ever. I don't know how else t'make you understand that."

_Damn, this dude knows how t'piss a guy off…_

With a _pop_, Vincent shattered the tumbler that held his vodka in one hand, sending shards of glass deep into his palm. "Drama. Queen?" he said calmly, his voice low and even. He slammed his hands down onto his desk, driving the shards even deeper, and snarled, his voice shaky with rage and something else. "Do not even _speak_ to me about survival. _Gutter. Trash_." He shut his eyes and literally _fought_ to get his breathing back under control. "I think I have more than _earned _the right to be a little _dramatic_, Highwind," he hissed before standing up and turning to lean against his bookshelf, his chest heaving. And when he spoke next his voice was dead. "Do you have any idea what I would give to have your life? To _be_ a nobody? Worthless? Unwanted?" He hung his head and took several deep, steadying breaths. "All right. We have a deal. Don't bother with the information. I have other…sources. You'll receive your "protection" when I get my first dose of mako. I need it no later than Thursday night, now get out." It had been a long while indeed since anyone had cut him this deeply.

Cid, surprisingly, knew when it was time to go. Sighing heavily, he went to the door, turning to look at Valentine once more before leaving. "I…" He should have had something to say, something either resentful or very meaningful, but nothing came. Even after this, he was not afraid of the man who seemed very much on the brink of injuring him. "Okay. Trash. Fine. I'll be trash. Just don't forget that even I have people who love me. Think about the ones who love you. Decide if you'd be willin' t'give that up, an' then wish you were nothin'." That said, Cid opened the door and closed it gently behind him, leaving his coat just as he had said he would.

Vincent waited a moment before moving to his door and locking it. He then went back to his minibar and retrieved the bottle of vodka, not even bothering to bind his wounds, and returned to his chair. As he began his slow journey though the bottle he leaned down and pulled Cerberus out of his desk drawer. He opened it, checking to make sure it was loaded and shut it again. As he drank he slowly spun a chamber. Trash. He knew all about trash. He sold his body for an illegal refinement of mako that wasn't even for himself. He was disposable. Rufus was right. His life was a lie. Everything he did, every business transaction, every assassination, every dirty deal…was a lie. He didn't want it. He never had. But it had become who he was to the point that he didn't remember who he used to be. He snorted in disgust as he put Cerberus back into his drawer and returned the lid to the vodka bottle. He would continue as he had. He would fuck who he had to, blackmail who he had to or kill who he had to in order to achieve his goal. He just wondered if there would be anything left when he got there.

_____The Next Day____

"What'd'ya mean he ain't come out?" Reno snapped at Tseng as he paced in front of Vincent's heavy office door.

"I thought it was rather obvious when I said it," Tseng replied flicking the paper he was reading in a manner that clearly said "drop it." "He'll come out when he's ready to."

Reno snorted. Sometimes he just couldn't _stand_ Tseng, and he had no idea _why_ Vincent had hired him, let alone put him as his second. Furthermore it completely pissed him off that Vincent didn't trust him or Rude with any information. Well, that wasn't entirely correct, he _did_ understand. At least with himself, after all he _did_ tend to loosen his tongue a bit when he drank. But that wasn't the point. The point was that Reno cared for Vincent. Vincent had taken him off of the streets, trained him himself and gave him a chance that no one else would have, not to mention saved his ass more times that he cared to try to count. Reno looked up to Vincent, and would gladly give his scrawny life for the man, if he ever got the chance. Which led him right into the situation that they had to endure with Shinra. He didn't know exactly _what_ it was that Shinra did to Vincent, but he saw what it did to his boss, and it made him want to throttle ShinRa, bring the man back to life and throttle him again. And he knew that Vincent did it to protect him, Tseng and Rude. If there was one thing Reno hated with a heated passion, it was being in debt. And Vincent thoroughly owned all three of them. That fact would have made Reno rather difficult to be around but for the fact that he loved his boss too much. He knew that Vincent was slowly killing himself for a reason he wouldn't share, even with Tseng (he knew because he asked the man the one night he had actually managed to get Tseng thoroughly knockered) and it was making him livid and impatient. In short…it was making him stupid.

"Aw, fuck this," he said, throwing up his hands and glaring at Rude and Tseng. "I ain't gonna just dick around here until his highness decides to lower himself enough to show himself to his subjects." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black case. Before Vincent had pulled him in to work for him, Reno had been quite a successful little thief and was unrivaled in the speed with which he could pick a lock.

"Sit down, Reno." Tseng said, not looking up from his paper. Rude remained silent.

"Yeah, well fuck you too, ya mangy gargoyle." Reno muttered, and had Vincent's door open and was inside before Tseng could stop him. He shut the door and immediately squinted into the gloom. As soon as his eyes got used to the darkness, he saw Vincent sitting at his desk sipping from an opened bottle of something and looking out the window. "Oy! How long are you gonna sulk in here, princess?"

He frowned when Vincent took another sip of…Reno sniffed- alcohol. Vincent was drinking in his office. That was…unusual. But it was what Vincent said that made Reno take a step back in surprise. "Good morning, Reno. Is there something I can do for you?" Vincent sounded so…cold. And the fact that he wasn't snapping at him for barging into his office said a lot more. Vincent _hated_ it when he just barged into his office. "You okay, boss?" he asked, taking a step closer to the desk.

"I am fine, Reno."

"You, uh, you don't sound fine, boss. Did everything go all right with the cop? Did he insult you? You want me to break his kneecaps for ya? 'Cause I will," Reno said. He never was one for elegance in wordplay, but that wasn't why Vincent kept him around.

"No," Vincent replied, taking another sip. "I have accepted his offer. It wouldn't do to assault a business associate without proper cause, now would it."

"I guess not." Reno muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Y'know that cop ain't so bad. Kinda dumb, but he's a good guy."

Vincent snorted. "The pot calling the kettle black. What has this world come to?"

Well, that was more like it.

"Yes, he is 'all right' isn't he." Reno shuddered at the tone of Vincent's voice. "I suppose I should be grateful that he did not demand sex as payment."

_Wait a minute_. Reno's eyes grew round. "What?" He blurted.

Vincent laughed. It was a dead, hollow sound that made Reno shudder. "Oh don't look so surprised Reno. What did you expect goes on when Rufus summons me to his private rooms? That we play _checkers_?"

"But he only does that when he's…after we…because I..." Suddenly it all made sense. Vincent's pale, drawn features the next day. Tseng's haggard and drained expression. Why they never saw Vincent until a day _later_. Suddenly Reno felt sick. _He_ was responsible for some of that. "Why didn't you tell us? Tell _me_, dammit!"

"I have my reasons, Reno. Do not question them. Just be grateful that I do not let Rufus have you. You would _not_ survive." Vincent said tilting his head to see as he rearranged some papers on his desk and taking another drink.

That was when Reno saw it. With a gasp he walked around to stand in front of Vincent. He took his boss's chin in his hand, raised his face and was shocked into horrified silence. Dark, angry bruises surrounded one eye, the man's jaw and he saw finger marks around his throat. Vincent's eyes were flat, lifeless and unseeing. There were dark circles under the red eyes that Reno had come to love, as well as a pale, ashy tone and texture to Vincent's skin. Vincent's soul was dying.

"Is something bothering you, Reno? You look upset," Vincent said flatly, blinking slowly.

Reno shook his head and released Vincent's chin. He was suddenly struck with the brutal urge to commit murder, and if he didn't cool down, he knew that he would. But Vincent had said that he had taken the cop's offer. And if he had, then that meant that they were all going to get out from under ShinRa's thumb. But why was Vincent acting like this? He was "fine" before his meeting with Highwind…Reno straightened. _That fuckin' cop must'a said something to him. How _dare_ he think he knows Vincent, _Reno thought, balling his fists as a steely calm settled around him. He needed to go and make a little social call, and find out just _what_ was said.

"Yer fuckin' right I'm upset. How long has that piece of shit been hurtin' ya boss? Naw, don't answer that. I can actually figure it out myself." Reno began to head for the door. "But if you let it continue, I'll kill that fucker myself and gods damn the consequences. Clean yourself up 'n get out here. We're worried 'bout 'cha." With a backward look, he wrenched open the door and slammed it shut behind him. When Tseng glared up at him and Rude pushed himself off of the wall he growled. "We gotta get him away from ShinRa…_now_."

________One Day Later__________

"Yeah, you got it. T'morra night? Excellent. No, here's fine. I'll bring it where it needs t'go after that. Oh, all right. Yeah, I'll send somebody by around eight. Thanks a lot, doc," he concluded, with the vocal equivalent of a wink.

The next night, Aerith, looking as prim and proper as ever in a thick skirt and thicker glasses, left Cid's house for Hojo's lab. She had been there before occasionally, parading as a health official. Hojo took a particular interest in her for the shape and color of her eyes, so unusual in Midgar.

Tonight, Midgar would consume her completely. She had a way of convincing a man with no more than a glance of what she wanted, and she would exercise that on Hojo. Even an upstanding member of what was more or less the food and drug association of Midgar could fall victim to something with as strong a siren song as the jenova mako.

Few knew of the jenova; results had never been released, as tampering with mako was both dangerous and illegal. However, a friend of a friend of Aerith's –or so she would tell Hojo- knew someone who knew someone who had been a participant of the initial testing. Aerith wanted a sample to test personally, and would require more in the future. The association would never know, and she would find a way around the rules for Hojo, she would claim.

A sketchy story at best, but for the chance to follow Aerith around on yet another tour of the labs, a weak-link assistant would agree immediately. She might never have to deal with Hojo at all. If she did, well, she knew how to handle him.


	6. Chapter 6

**HEAVY** warning on this one. Violence to a fairly graphic degree, violent, bloody death of a nonessential original character. Anger, stress, the beginnings of the UST that runs our stories. Also, the dreaded effword has made itself a cozy little home in this chapter.

Again, the part to skip if you're easily upset is the part between the line breaks, about halfway down the page ^^

* * *

A light knocking on Cid's door told him Aerith had returned, and by the quality of her giggle when he yelled for her to hold her chocobos, she had been successful.

As she stepped into the open door, Aerith handed over a small package. "Easy as pie," she said cheerfully. "I love it when he hires those kids fresh out of school. All I have to do is look at them the right way, and they won't have a clue who it was they gave the sample to."

"Y're a good kid yerself, Aer," Cid took the package and placed it on the table.

"Well, somebody has to look out for you. Shera looked well," she told him. Cid had been worried sick once he had discovered that Shera was pregnant and still working in such a high-risk area.

"She oughta get 'erself outta there," he growled, lighting a cigarette and handing one to Aerith, who politely declined as usual.

"I'm gonna get myself on outta here, Captain, how's that?"

"Be careful. I know y'c'n take care o' yerself…but this place ain't no good."

"Where I live isn't much better, and you know it. Now stop worrying about me and focus on taking over the world." She left with a wink, and Cid sighed at her retreating back.

Some people, Cid noted, figured out how to make the world turn in their favor. He wished he could have learned how to be one of them.

Early the next morning, Cid's phone rang and he was disgruntled to find that it was one of those annoying updates on the local pizza place's specials for the week. He could not have cared less about that if he tried. Almost immediately after hanging up the phone, Cid jumped. Someone was knocking at his door…and the knocking sounded angry. Cid readied himself for a fight –there was no peephole or chain on the door- and pulled the door open to reveal none other than Reno. He relaxed momentarily. "Hey, kid, how's it goin'? Y'drop by fer tea? Shoulda called me, I'd'a had some ready. C'mon in!"

Cid's face fell again when Reno didn't respond beyond tromping quite deliberately and unhappily into the room. "What's wrong? He said Thursday, didn't 'e? I'mma have it ready 'fore then, if that's th'problem. I-" His rambling came to a halt as the look on Reno's face told him quite plainly that that was not the problem. "What is it? Them crazies didn't get ahold of ya again, did they?"

"What did you do, old man?" Reno whirled and pointed a finger at Cid.

"What did I…do? I don't…what the hell're ya goin' on about!?" Cid jerked back from the pointing finger, offended.

"He was fine until you talked to him. What did you say?" Reno grabbed Cid by the front of his jacket and shoved him back into the wall. "_What did you say!"_ By now all that Reno could see were those dead, red eyes and all he could hear was the flat voice. Somewhere in his mind he knew that he was overreacting and misdirecting his rage. But he wanted to hurt someone for what he had seen on Vincent's face.

"What did I… I said I'd get 'im what 'e needed! There somethin' wrong with that?" Cid yelled back, but finally his mind finished processing the words. "Whaddaya mean he was fine? He ain't fine now? What happened? He was pissed when I left, but 'e was fine, 'cept 'is hand. Kid…calm down an' tell me what's goin' on. I sure as hell can't undo anything, but if I did somethin', I c'n try t'fix it. Now let go o' me an' sit down an' tell me what's th'matter."

Reno snorted in disgust and shoved Cid away to begin pacing around the small apartment like a caged beast. He paused long enough to hiss, "Whatever you said or whatever you did in that meeting you had with him, hurt him. I saw his face this morning. I saw the bruises. I know what ShinRa does to him, but that ain't _nothin_' compared t'what I saw in his eyes, yo." Reno was so agitated that his speech had slipped back into the street dialect he had used for so many years before Vincent's "second chance".

"You think I did that? Is that what y're sayin'?" Cid was confused, angry, and a little hurt. "Shit…the last thing I wanna do is hurt 'im. Gave m'fuckin' word on that, an' you oughta know I ain't one ta…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Look, I…I don't know what coulda made 'im so upset that it's got you this upset. I don't know. In case you didn't get the message, I ain't askin' him fer nothin' but help. I'd appreciate not gettin' taken out by the people I'm s'poseda be workin' with." Cid sighed and braced himself for another shove, battle cry, or something. "Shinra's the asshole here, not me. 'Kay?"

"Look cop, the boss has been takin' the beatin's for us for years now…fuckin' _years_ and never once have I seen his eyes that lifeless, yo. I've seen him fuckin' bloody 'n unable to walk so Tseng had to fuckin' _carry_ him back to his room and _still_ his eyes have never looked like that before. So the only conclusion that I can figure is that _you_ said somethin' to him that hit him harder than any fist, cane or whip." Reno's fists were clenched and shaking by his sides. Finally he narrowed his eyes and said, "Ya said ya had his shit. Then let's go 'n give to him, and so help me you whiny old fuck, if you make him look like that again, I'll fuckin' kill ya. Now let's go." And with that Reno pushed past Cid and headed down the stairs and to the waiting car.

Cid sighed and shoved the mako, a glass similar to the tumbler Vincent had broken, and a pack of cigarettes into his backup coat, a ratty old thing that made him appear to be little more than a wino. Sometimes he figured that wasn't too far off. He got reluctantly into the car and found that he did not enjoy the interior nearly as much when he was surrounded by it under bad circumstances. He did, however, manage to hold his tongue until spoken to.

----Meanwhile, back in Vincent's office----

"Did you get what I asked for?" Vincent said looking up from some shipping orders as Tseng strode into his office.

"Yes, and it was insulting," Tseng replied with hostility as he handed Vincent a manila folder.

"I'm sorry, Tseng. But if we give him bigger players they'll suspect someone is helping him, and we cannot afford that. This one is under more radars than I'm comfortable with."

"Understood, sir."

Vincent opened the folder and began scanning its contents, speaking as he did so. "Even old Wedge here may raise a few eyebrows. Considering Highwind's track record of arrests – or more appropriately lack thereof – we _should_ have started with shoplifters. But he needs to get some attention, and this idiot is perfect. Besides, I'm getting sick of cleaning up after him." He sighed. "The _last_ thing I need is a turf war between gangs right now, and this was just too convenient."

Tseng nodded. "It is that, sir."

Snapping the folder shut when he finished, Vincent let out a low whistle and grinned at the Wutaian. "Impressive, Tseng. I _do_ love to watch you work." He tossed the folder down onto his desk. "Remind me to never piss you off."

Tseng's lips pulled up into a wan smile that was almost more grimace than grin. "I doubt you could, sir. And I think I'd be dead before I could use any of it."

"Touché," Vincent said soberly.

"So what about this 'protection' Highwind is asking for?" Tseng scoffed, sitting precariously on the edge of Vincent's desk and crossing his arms. "I still think the arrangements of this deal are too generous on your part."

"Your concern is duly noted, Tseng. But I _need_ that mako and the price is more than acceptable. It's downright cheap." _If annoying,_ Vincent thought, rubbing his temple. He was beginning to get a headache. _Headaches and Highwind,_ he thought, _must be a two-for-one deal_. He sighed wearily. "I don't know _what_ exactly he expects us to do. I can give him a modicum of protection from the underbelly, but it runs a risk of more heat from his own people. I really do not believe he knows what he's doing." Vincent chewed on the inside of his cheek while he thought. Finally he said, "Put Verdot on him."

"_Verdot_, sir?" Tseng said in disbelief. "Are you sure that is wise?"

Vincent frowned slightly in thought. "I don't have anyone else. And Verdot has a unique talent for subtle intimidation. The man's a fucking _ghost_. Really he's the _best_ option we have for this job."

"But can he be _trusted_, Vincent? The man has no fear," Tseng said skeptically.

"Wrong." Vincent said quietly. "He fears _me_. Be sure he knows the importance of this job. If you have to, tell him it's personal and if he fucks up then I will _personally_ peel the flesh off of his bones and he will be awake for all of it. He is to be invisible, and act as a buffer between Highwind and the dregs. I don't care how he does it so long as he does not create problems for me and he cleans up after himself. That should keep him happy. And he should have _no_ contact with the cop unless forced to, which should make him even happier."

Tseng nodded. "I'll see that he is informed, sir and that he knows only what he needs to know to do the job."

Vincent nodded in return. "Good."

Just then Reno knocked once and poked his head into the office. "Someone t' see ya, boss."

Vincent looked at Tseng and both men frowned. He wasn't _expecting_ anyone. At least not anyone who would come here of his own free will, and it was only Wednesday. He nodded to Reno. "Show them in."

Reno's head disappeared and a moment later was replaced by the disheveled and scruffy cop Cid Highwind. Vincent stiffened, eyes going cold. "Will you excuse us please, Tseng?" He propped his elbows on the armrests of his chair and laced his finger together.

"Sir, will you-" Vincent raised two fingers and Tseng stilled and nodded. He then headed to the door where he paused and looked back. "And what about our next order of business?"

"Carry on, Tseng. After all we cannot stop business or rearrange our schedules for every unexpected visitor that we may receive."

"Yes, sir." Tseng said, bowing and excusing himself.

Vincent narrowed his eyes and gestured to a chair across from him. It was time to show the cop just _what_ he had gotten himself into. "Now. What can I do for you, Mr. Highwind?"

"I just…I got yer stuff." He took out the mako first and placed it on the desk, then removed the tumbler and set it upside down beside the package. "Figured I oughta r'place that, on account o' s'my fault it got broke."

Vincent made no move to retrieve the mako, nor the tumbler. In fact, he didn't even look at them, instead keeping his eyes pinned on Highwind. "You're early. I told you Thursday."

"You said 'no later than Thursday night.' It ain't later'n Thursday night." Cid tried to glare back with equal force, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

"And sucking up will win you no extra points with me," Vincent said flatly. "I deal with enough sycophants; I do not need one more."

They were interrupted by a brisk knock on the door. "Come!" Vincent barked. The office door swung open and Tseng entered shoving a short, puggish-looking man in front of him. At the sight of Vincent, the man whimpered and tried to run only to be caught by Tseng and shoved down onto the carpet. Vincent's lips curled up into a gentle smile. "Ah! Dexter! How good to see you!" He turned back to Cid, smile in place, but his tone was hollow. "Please excuse me, Mr. Highwind. I have some business to attend to. This will not take very long. No need to get up…" he stopped Cid's attempt to leave by shoving down on his shoulder firmly. "I'll only be a minute."

He calmly walked over to the sniveling man curled upon the floor and knelt down. "Now, Dexter, you owe Mr. ShinRa a lot of money…"

* * *

"I-I-I'll get the money, I swear I will, just gimme a second chance…_please_!" The man named 'Dexter' wailed.

"No need to yell, Dexter," Vincent said curtly, wincing at the shrill voice. He reached out and easily pried what was left of Dexter's hand away from his chest and lifted it up, dropped it and repeated the motion with the other hand. "Now Dexter, we've given you _eight_ 'second chances' and none of them have worked. I don't believe that a ninth 'second chance' will work, do you?"

"Please…one more chance…have mercy!" Dexter sobbed.

"Mr. ShinRa can be a benevolent master or he can be your worst nightmare. You were told this going into the deal, were you not?" Vincent asked soothingly.

Sobbing now, Dexter only nodded.

"Yes," Vincent said stroking the man's head. "Good boy. Such a good memory. It seems, Dexter," he continued as he got up and began walking to his desk, "that Mr. ShinRa has decided to cut his losses with you." He leaned down to retrieve a case, which he then set on his desk and opened. He slowly put his gauntlet on and buckled it down tightly. At the sight of the wicked golden glove Dexter screamed, making the cop jump.

The sudden movement also managed to catch Dexter's attention. "You! I-I-I know you! You're a cop! Help me! Please, I beg you. I've got information, you can use it! Just please, you can't let him do this! You're supposed to help us! Protect us! Please!"

"Now, now, Dexter," Vincent said softly, "Mr. Highwind is a long way from home right now. His oaths to serve and protect have been…modified." He grinned at the weeping man that Tseng now held down.

"B-b-but how could you? You swore to protect us!" Dexter pleaded, looking at Highwind.

"That's enough, Dexter," Vincent said matter-of-factly and he nodded at Tseng who then pulled out a gag and effectively silenced the man's pleas. Vincent walked over and crouched down next to the man. "You have been given many chances, Dexter. Mr. ShinRa is a benevolent man and he was thinking of your wife and children. But he has lost patience with you and now you must pay." And without any warning he moved with lightning speed and dragged a claw deeply across the man's throat, slicing it open. Dexter's eyes widened in shock and there was a bubbling gurgle as he slowly bled out, his muscles spasming and twitching. Vincent, his back to Highwind, shut his eyes and fought back the nausea. He _hated _this part of the job, and each life he took carved out one more piece of his soul. He stood up and swiped across his mouth with his jacket sleeve, wiping off the sweat that had beaded on his upper lip. Turning, he walked back to his desk and retrieved the rag from the case and began to meticulously wipe off the bloody blades. He was beginning to feel sick at hearing the man tenaciously refusing to die. "Tseng, why is he still alive?"

"Yes, sir," Tseng said flatly and there was a sickening crunch of bones as Tseng twisted the man's neck until it broke. "Although I do not know why you insist on doing this on the carpet. It makes a terrible mess."

* * *

"Personal preference. I wish to be comfortable," Vincent said as he secured the gauntlet back into its case. He then went to his wall safe, quickly entered the combination and retrieved six thick stacks of bills, hesitated, then added two more to the stack. He shut the safe and went back to his desk to retrieve a black silk bag into which he slipped the money and tied it closed. He picked up the phone on his desk and punched "0". "Reno. We'll be needing a tarp. Take the body to the second drop point and dispose of it." He then hung up the phone and walked over to Tseng and handed him the black bag. "Please see to the woman and children. There is a quarter of a million gil here; see that she gets out of town. You can put her up in one of my apartment buildings in Kalm until she can get back on her feet. Go." Tseng nodded and when Reno came in, he helped roll up the body and carry it out.

With a sigh Vincent walked back to his desk and sat back down, crossing his leg and leaning back in his chair. "Now, where were we? Ah! Yes, business." He leaned forward and picked up the mako. Sniffing it gently, he gagged and abruptly jerked it away from his nose as his body reacted to the Jenova mako. "This is genuine. I am satisfied." He choked and coughed, quickly wrapping it in a silk handkerchief. He opened a drawer and carefully placed the tube inside. He then reached forward and pushed the manila folder over to the shaken cop. "As per our agreement. This should get you noticed, and get you started. You do your own legwork, but all the evidence you need is there to assure the conviction. Even a corrupt judge cannot dismiss what is in there." He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands in his lap. "As for your 'protection', I have a man keeping an eye on you. He'll keep the lowlifes off your back. I would however be careful of your own people. Cannibalism in the force is sadly, rather common." Vincent finished and smiled, blinking slowly then abruptly sat up, making the cop jump. "Ah yes! I have a job for you, if you wish to accept it. You may refuse of course, but I would be grateful if you did and you may set your price, naturally. Are you interested?"

Cid had seen murder before over things even more trivial, and by people more innocent and less surprising than Valentine. Still, this shook him somehow. He thought for a moment that it was perhaps just the shock and suddenness of the situation that left him reeling. However, he discovered soon enough that this was not so.

Valentine suffered for this. It hurt him to be the man feared by all and respected by few. Fear was not respect, as Cid knew well.

_What have I done_, he wondered, _by askin' him t'take over? He hates this. I c'n see that._

_I'm so goddam selfish._

He registered a moment later that Valentine was speaking to him…offering him a job, of all things. He looked at the folder on the desk in front of him, something he quite violently did not want anymore. He wanted out, but Dexter had just proven that such things were not possible. There was no out. Besides, he had given his word on this, and, more importantly, to Tseng that he would not betray Valentine. Highwind was and would remain a man of his word…when the other party held its end of the bargain, that is. He'd winced when Dexter had commented on his defecting from the force…but it was necessary for the greater good. …Wasn't it?

"Yeah, I- I'll do it." _But a price?_ That was always the most difficult part. What did he need? He could ask for Shera's protection, but such things would only stress her out…and she would know about it no matter how careful they were. Cid cursed woman's intuition.

"I…I don't…" He shook his head, wondering what he could ask. There was nothing more he needed, but was there anything he _wanted_? Just to avoid trouble, really, with both sides, and he was already getting that.

He glanced again at the folder and opened it, a file detailing a petty but well-known man. _So I'm still gonna be the incompetent one who can't do a damn thing right. I love it, lemme tell ya…I'm so fuckin' sick o' this place. Why'd I get m'self inta this? I coulda just left. Coulda taken off an' gone t'some tiny little place. Rocket Town, maybe. Coulda made somethin' o' m'self there._

_I'm so fuckin' tired o' bein' ever'body's fool._

He brought his eyes back to Valentine and remembered why he was here so early, regaining his ability to speak coherently in his anger. "Kid came t'get me t'day, so fer one thing, y'c'n just shove it about me suckin' up." _Yeah, there ya go, Highwind. Tell on 'im. Like a fuckin' five year old_. "Another thing, I want direct contact with you whenever I'm s'posed'a meetcha. I ain't passin' information or anything else I might bring ya through yer boys there. It goes straight to you. An' we're gonna be meetin' once every two weeks, 'cause that's the price. You're gonna meet me fer drinks every other Friday night until I _fix_ whatever it is I broke in there," he finished, pointing at Valentine's head. "That sound all right t'you?"

Trying to appear pleased with himself, Cid sat back in the chair, arms folded, and stared hard at Valentine while awaiting his reaction.

_Why the hell do I get m'self into these situations?_

"What are you talking about." Vincent blurted, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. So Reno had paid Highwind a visit behind his back, had he? That did _not_ please him. Reno knew better than to jeopardize potential deals, and the fact that this particular deal was _personal_ made him livid. And what was this ridiculousness about 'meeting for drinks'? "I believe I need to have a…word, with Reno." He regarded the cop for several minutes without blinking, and expressionless. Finally he nodded. "Now you are beginning to understand." He tapped a finger on his bicep. "I shall give you my personal number. It is screened of course, electronically, but you will be able to contact me directly. And as for the rest of your terms…" he frowned again, brain picking apart the various scenarios and ulterior motives that the cop might try to be hiding and came up with nothing, which frustrated him, "…besides being unorthodox and _extremely_ risky for both of us, are acceptable. Every other Friday upon the conclusion of my business that day, I shall meet you for…drinks." He said the word with a sneer. "Shall I assume that you shall determine the location?"

Poor planning was, as most knew, a very strong trait in Cid Highwind. "Um." He felt his cheeks going red and wished again that he would think ahead before saying anything. "I figured you'd know some places it's safe fer you t'be?"

"No place is 'safe' for me, Highwind. Your place will be sufficient, for the time being. Will you excuse me?" Vincent pulled out his PHS and punched in Tseng's speed dial. "Tseng? When Reno gets back, have him come to my office. We need to have a little chat. No…just being Reno, but this time it was too far. Good." He snapped his phone shut and placed it back in his pocket. He looked at Highwind again. "It would seem, Mr. Highwind, that your boss and my boss are getting rather chummy. I need to know what they are up to, as it could make things rather difficult for me. Do you think that will be a problem?"

"After I take care o' this," Cid said, lifting the files he held, "I'm sure I'll be able t'help ya there, yeah. We definitely can't have that…" he mumbled, shaking his head. "Hey…the kid…"

"Is none of your concern." Vincent finished, placing his arm on the table to tap a finger absently. "He acted without my permission, and that needs to be addressed. Do not bother yourself with business that does not involve you."

Cid nodded slowly and stared at his knees. "Yeah." He understood, but he had grown quite attached to the kid somehow, perhaps because Reno was so protective of Valentine. He admired that, certainly, and figured it could account for a lot of it. Another thing was that the kid was so young…he reminded Cid of himself in certain ways. "Is that- is that all fer now, then? I was tryin'a get t'sleep 'fore I got dragged here."

Vincent waved his hand dismissively. "If you like. When shall I make my first "payment", then? This Friday or next."

"What is it, Tuesday? This Friday oughta be good. Enough time t'clear out the evenin' fer me, an' you'll let me know when yer business fer th'night's done, right?" Cid could not remember ever having been as tired as he felt suddenly. "I- could I get a lift home again? I hate t'do that, but…I don't think I'd even know how t'get here an' back m'self."

"It is Wednesday, and this Friday is acceptable." Vincent said, checking his watch. "I'll have Tseng drive you back as soon as they return from their chore. Until then, make yourself comfortable, Mr. Highwind."

"'Kay." Cid didn't think he could ever be comfortable in these cold rooms, but he wasn't going to say so. Eventually, Tseng returned and immediately left again with Cid in tow. When he got home, Cid collapsed onto the couch and tried to enjoy a broken, less than restful sleep.

Meanwhile that night, back across Midgar, Vincent too enjoyed a rather restless and unsettling sleep- but for an entirely different reason.

'_You've done well, Vincent.'_

"_How much longer must I do this?" he whispered from where he stood, naked and shivering in the frigid, hazy darkness._

'Until I am strong enough to return,' came the lazy reply. 'The time draws ever closer.'

"_I do not know how much longer I can_ _keep up," Vincent said, hugging himself. "He hurts me, and I am frightened. Frightened that I am losing myself."_

'That is of no concern to me, Vincent. The only thing that matters is that you get the mako. How you do it is entirely up to you. If you chose to make a victim of yourself, then that is your decision. Do not bother me with it.'

"_It _should_ be," he replied, peering fruitlessly into the void. "If I die, then your chances of return are gone."_

'_Ah, but you won't, will you Vincent?' p__urred that terrible, beautiful voice. _ _'You owe me, and your sense of honor and duty…dare I even call it loyalty, will ensure that you succeed. You are weak, Vincent, you always have been. But you are intelligent, and resourceful, which makes you invaluable to me. When I return, I will see that you get what you deserve. That you receive what you desire most. Loyalty such as yours shall not go…unrewarded.'_

And then that voice began to chuckle, an oily sound, rich and deep that slowly flayed Vincent alive where he stood, soaked into his bones and stained his soul even further. He awoke with a shout, sitting bolt upright and covered in a cold sweat. It was the same every night since the explosion that nearly killed him. The dreams kept coming, kept telling him what to do, taunting him with promises of freedom. With a shudder, Vincent shoved his hand through is hair and got out of bed. With shaking hands he got out the vodka and poured himself a glass. He then walked out to the chair that he always ended up in night after night, and watched the Midgar skyline until dawn.


	7. Chapter 7

What? No real warnings? Enjoy!

* * *

Having decided on a time for the two of them to meet, Cid hurried to freshen up before Valentine arrived. After all, he'd hardly make a good impression if he opened the door looking the way he had immediately after work- they'd sent him into the sewers, of all places, to find a purse. Scarlet's purse, of course, and she had dropped it there on purpose, not to mention refused to use it again once Cid had returned it. On the plus side, his 'date' tonight had kept him in a relatively good mood through it all.

However, he knew Valentine would not appreciate his lateness any more than he would have appreciated the sewer smell. He did his best to rush through showering and dressing. It wouldn't do to keep such an important guest waiting. Shirt half-buttoned, and tie loosely dangling from his neck, Cid made for the door when he heard the firm knocking on it. "Just a second," he called, finding his glasses and making a pitiful attempt at taming his hair.

As he used one hand to open the door just widely enough to make sure it was Valentine, the other hand was busy trying to close the rest of the buttons. "Oh, hey! Come on in. Sorry, I was...that is, uh, do I still smell?"

Vincent frowned at the question as the cop opened the door the rest of the way so that he could enter the apartment. "What kind of question is…" then he caught the whiff of. _Oh that's just disgusting_, he thought, wrinkling his nose at the raw sewage smell that only just lingered in the air. "Yes," he said bluntly, removing his jacket to stand just inside the door. Highwind offered to take his jacket, and he reluctantly surrendered it, only mildly relieved to see the cop actually hang it on the coat rack carefully. He was then instructed to wait in the sitting room with a "make yerself comf'tble," which he proceeded to do by sitting gingerly on the worn leather couch.

While the cop busied himself in the kitchen and elsewhere doing…whatever it is he had yet to do, Vincent's thoughts drifted back to his car ride over here, and the brief conversation that he had had with Tseng.

"Shall I wait for you, sir?" his second had asked.

"That won't be necessary. But do not go too far. I do not foresee this taking long. They always want the same thing in the end." Once he got the cop off, he'd collect the mako he was due and then leave.

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" Tseng said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "Do you really believe the cop wants that from you?"

"When have you ever known meetings like this to be mere social calls, Tseng?" he replied, and Tseng's silence was all the answer he had needed.

"Be careful, sir."

"Oh, I intend to. I'll give him what he wants and then leave. Simple as that," Vincent said wearily.

"If you say so, sir."

He had then gotten out of the car and walked toward the stairs leading into the apartment complex, spotting a dark shadow in the alleyway beside the building. He nodded to Verdot, and got exactly what he expected back: nothing. Not so much as a curious look; just another junkie without a home to go to. _Good_, Vincent thought, pleased that his end of the deal was being upheld.

Now he was sitting in Highwind's apartment, slowly growing impatient as the cop clattered around in his kitchen, mumbling something about 'no clean glasses'. He sighed and eased back into the cushions of the couch. He wondered how long it was going to take for the man to come out and demand his "payment".

Cid returned to the couch some five minutes later, mumbling apologies and fighting the heat that tried to rise in his cheeks. "I was plannin' t'be home a lot earlier. Y'shouldn't've had t'wait on me. I, uh, figured y'd rather have s'more o' that tea than anything else I got, so…"

Awkwardly, Cid handed a cup and saucer to Valentine and sat down a foot or so away from him. "Is there anything else I can getcha? I- o-oh, right. Y're here fer a reason, huh?" After setting his own tea –the cheap, non-authentic kind for himself, of course- on the table, Cid left the room again. He dug around in the nightstand for a while before remembering that he had put the mako in a safer, softer place. He did not have to fish through the sock drawer to find the handkerchief-wrapped tube he had placed there the day before.

Back in the living room, he handed the mako, still wrapped, to his guest, finding that this was one of those days on which he could not meet Valentine's eyes. "M'sorry fer th'smell," he said, taking Valentine's sneer as a sign that he had caught another whiff. "Practical joke at work," Cid explained. "Y'c'n guess who wasn't laughin'."

But there was another order of business, wasn't there? Cid had agreed to try to find information for Valentine. He hadn't heard much, but he had caught a few rumors of similar nature. "As fer that …job…y'set me…well, I ain't really sure what y'know an' what y'don't, but all I know is that there's rumors th'Modeoheim Syndicate's imposin' some kind o' threat on our end, an' Scarlet's thinkin' gettin' ShinRa's protection wouldn't be a bad idea. Just rumors, mind you, but I c'n only tell ya what I heard."

He let the information sink in before asking almost timidly, "Y'll still stay fer a while, won't ya? I get real lonely sometimes, an' comp'ny's nice."

Sipping the exquisite tea – he couldn't fault Highwind's taste there – Vincent frowned. He hadn't heard of anything that would indicate aggression from the Syndicate, and as far as he knew, Weiss and Nero _detested_ ShinRa. What would they want with the authorities? He had found the culprit for the missing mako shipment, and had delivered acceptable punishment. Rosso had been thrilled to deliver the man's head back to her employers personally, along with the recovered mako. And if ShinRa were collaborating with Scarlet without including him, then he had no choice but to conclude that the business those two discussed involved him…somehow. That was distressing news indeed. He had to be more careful from now on.

But it was Highwind's last words that settled coldly in his stomach. He sighed and set his teacup down on the end table next to the wrapped mako tube. _Well, that was certainly quick_, Vincent thought sourly as he reached up to unbutton the top button of his silk shirt. _Though his delivery is new_. Vincent would tire of that hesitance very quickly if it continued. "Yes, I imagine it would get quite lonely where you are. Perhaps I can do something to help alleviate that loneliness, hm?" He crossed one long leg over the other and waited to see what the cop would do.

Cid blinked twice and stared for nearly half a minute before he realized what was happening, and when he did, he all but leapt from his seat. "What th'hell're you- shit, didn't I tell ya, didn't I promise, that I wouldn't ask anything like that? I ain't takin' it now, either! Shit…" _Are you really so broken, Valentine?_ Cid was hurt, both for Valentine and for himself. Did he really project such an image? Was it really so easy to believe that he wanted to harm?

"Dammit, Valentine, is it so hard t'believe that I really just wanna have a conversation or two over tea sometime? I mean, Shera's nice comp'ny an' all, but she's a woman, an' so's Aer, an'…I'm so sorry to have made you think that." He was sincerely sorry, and afraid that he had irreparably ruined their deal. "I don't ever want you to feel like that's what I'm askin' or that's why y're here." Though in the past similar gestures had led to Reno all but assaulting him the next day, Cid reclaimed his seat on the couch gingerly and placed a hand on Valentine's face. "Never again," he said, feeling like a fool for making a request that could be interpreted in such a way.

He rose again and took Valentine's coat from the rack. "Go on home, Vincent, an' get some rest if y'can. I'll see ya next time." *

Vincent raised an eyebrow and shrugged easily. He could wait. His cheek was still warm where Highwind had touched him, and that bothered him a little that he marked the absence of the source of that warmth so much. "As you wish, Mr. Highwind." He picked up the mako and his teacup, carrying the latter into the kitchen as was proper. He then put on his jacket and reached for the door.

Cid caught the doorknob before Valentine did, and he held the door shut a while longer. "I guess," he began, looking at the floor, "that now I really must seem like every bit the naïve idiot I claim not to be. But…you will come back, right? That part's business. And just know…hell, I know this don't mean anything to a man like you, but if you ever need to…want to…happen t'be in the area, whatever- well, you feel free t'drop by here. If I'm in, you're welcome here." Cid thought that maybe he would have to look into having another key made. If ever Cid was unable to meet Valentine on an agreed-upon date, the mako still had to find its way to Valentine. That sort of thing could not wait. "Guess I'll be seein' ya," Cid said, reluctantly stepping aside and opening the door for his departing guest.

Vincent stood there, frowning slightly as he studied Highwind's flushed face and averted eyes. Finally he nodded and murmured, "I shall keep it in mind. Good evening, Mr. Highwind, and thank you for the tea." Flipping his collar up on his jacket, Vincent turned and made his way down the stairs, pausing once to look back up at the cop standing in the doorway; he met Highwind's eyes and nodded again before pulling out his phone and calling for Tseng to come and pick him up.

Even long after Vincent had left, Cid stood at the door, feeling the odd clenching in his chest. _I don't understand why just bein' near you always has t'hurt so much._

They had passed only twenty minutes together. Cid wanted so badly to be able to talk with Valentine for hours on end, to find out what made him tick and preserve it so that he would always be able to be the man Cid had come to admire. Though sometimes, he wasn't sure what there was to admire, or even if Valentine was still ticking at all. Nonetheless, he would try again on their next meeting to have a reasonable conversation. He doubted they had much, if anything, in common, but Cid could pretend.

After a second shower accompanied by heavy scrubbing and the floral shampoo Shera had left, he allowed himself a pleasure for which he had recently had little time. He would never be a pilot now, much less ever have his hands on a plane's engine parts, but he could still read about it. Though by now he had practically memorized what went into building a biplane, he read over the information again, smiling wryly as he found a folded piece of paper bearing some quick sketches and the words "Tiny Bronco."

"Never happen," he told himself, but that did nothing to diminish the grin that had built up. If he could dream, he could believe, and if he could believe, he could make progress. He kissed the _Bronco_ goodnight and tucked the plans back into the book. "If I ever getcha built, ol' girl, Valentine'll be m'first passenger, I guarantee ya that." He placed the book carefully on the edge of the table and lay down, ready for the sleep that promised for once to be whole.

"That was quick, sir," Tseng said as Vincent got into the car.

"Yes, it was," he replied.

"And that would lead me to conclude that things didn't go exactly as you suspected they would?"

"Correct in your conclusion, Tseng," Vincent said, staring out the window as they slowly drove back to the ShinRa Tower.

"Is it really so difficult to think that the cop only wants to talk to you, Vincent?" Tseng said softly. "That there _is_ no ulterior motive?"

"Hn." He grunted. Pulling out the mako tube, he carefully unwrapped the glowing chemical, taking pains to not even touch the glass. This strain of mako formulation always made him react; from nausea to an outright rash, all the way to violent seizures if consumed or injected; the strain that ran through his own veins was vehemently incompatible to that which he held now in his hand. But those were not the thoughts that he entertained at the moment. Rather his thoughts were centered around one Cid Highwind who had thoroughly befuddled him, raised his paranoia even as he was strangely reassured. Perhaps Tseng was right, but did he dare drop his guard? Even a little? There was just too much to lose. Too much pain had gone into getting him this far, and he was so very close to the end. If he dared to let Highwind get too close then the cop could blow his world apart, and there would be no escape then, save for death.

"Sir?"

"Just drive, Tseng," he murmured, fingers wrapping around the cloth-wrapped mako tube tightly. "Just drive."

"Yes, sir."


	8. Chapter 8

This one's pretty long...should make up for last chapter, eh? Sorry it's a bit late...Cal was out of town and my computer was acting up, but we made it _almost_ on time!

* * *

Against all better judgment –not to mention Shera's explicit advice- Cid had decided to cook. He had no reason to believe, of course, that Valentine would be hungry, or that he would eat anything Cid offered him. He had contemplated that enough earlier, and now there was no going back. The chicken was in the oven, and Cid was fairly sure that it was mostly cooked.

He jumped when the knocking started, burning his hand on the inside of the stove. He was still nursing it in his mouth when he got to the door.

_Try to have fun_, Vincent thought irritably as he knocked on Highwind's door for the official 'second meeting' of the agreed payment plan for the mako. Tseng had had the nerve to tell him to 'have fun' on the ride over, and Vincent was still a little peeved about it. He was sorely tempted to skip tonight's meeting, but a deal was a deal, and Vincent Valentine did _not_ back out of agreements. He was startled and jumped back a little when the door was roughly yanked open and the cop stood in the doorway …_sucking his thumb_. Arching a brow, he couldn't stop himself before he blurted, "Did I interrupt something?"

"Sure as hell did," Cid said, grinning. "Pretty little thing waitin' for me in the kitchen. Two legs, two thighs…only one breast, but I reckon we c'n still share, if y'wanna come in." He pulled the door open, pleased with himself for having some sort of comeback, no matter how ridiculous a comeback it was. "S'good t'see ya. Would it be too much t'ask that y're so hungry it don't matter what th'food tastes like?" Cid asked as he took Valentine's jacket and hung it where he had last time. "Cause I reckon y're better off not bein' able t'taste it at all. Oh, sorry. Go on an' have a seat an' I'll bring it all out in a minute. Y'drank up th'last o' that tea," he called from the kitchen. "Wine good, or wouldja rather the regular tea or some water or…I think maybe I got lemonade mix somewhere in here…maybe a beer or two…Anyway, let me know what sounds good, yeah?"

Vincent's expression was one of utter shellshock as he was verbally assaulted. He actually spluttered for a moment before he managed to say, "Wine is fine, thank you." He had expected a repeat of last time; instead a totally different person greeted him. He took his familiar perch on the couch feeling an entirely different type of nervousness than last time. This was completely unfamiliar territory for him. Highwind was treating him like…a friend, as if he were completely normal and not some hardened criminal and killer. And that drove home to him just how removed he was from civilization, how much of a beast he had become, and suddenly he found himself inexplicably shy and uncertain of himself.

"Comin' up," Cid replied, and returned shortly with their drinks. He set his own on the table and handed the other glass to Vincent, then decided he might as well go back for the bottle just in case. There was at least no question by the time he was done with that as to whether the chicken was thoroughly cooked. "Might be a little, uh, charred, but that just adds character," he said, winking as he set down the large plate. "Take whatever ya want, 'cause I'll eat any of it. Need ketchup or anything? Y'prob'ly oughta drown it in somethin'."

Vincent peered curiously at what had to be some sort of bird. "Correct me if I am wrong, Highwind, but aren't those supposed to be a bit…bigger?"

"Uh…maybe it's a guinea hen? I dunno. Same thing I eat all the time, an' I'm still around, right?" Cid snagged a leg from the plate and began eating, realizing only after he had taken two rather large bites that he had company. "Um…sorry. Heh. Can I maybe get a plate an' a fork for ya?"

"And a knife and a napkin, I think, would be rather appreciated," Vincent said wryly, arching a brow and taking a sip of his wine. He winced and forced himself to swallow. _Very, cheap, wine._ He would have to make a note to bring Highwind some vintage Mideel wine- expensive, but the best. Still, it was better than nothing, and he was in no mood for tea.

Cid nodded and went to the kitchen to retrieve the necessary items, and when he returned, he went back to his default apology mode. "M'sorry 'bout the wine. I just picked it up this mornin' since I figured we oughta have somethin' other'n tea fer once." Cid took a few more bites, chased down what was in his mouth with his own sip of the wine –he found it to be perfectly acceptable- and asked, "Do you…hate bein' here?"

Vincent paused in his attempt to hack off a bit of breast meat from the…bird, and thought a moment. "Not really. Indifferent I suppose, but this place has its own…_quaint_ charm about it. Are you always this hesitant in conversation?" he countered with his own question as he went back to sawing. He had noticed that when he looked at Highwind, the man grew increasingly more uncomfortable. He chalked it up to his red eyes. They tended to have that effect on people – which is why he made a point to wear shaded glasses when out in public – so he carefully kept them averted now. He made a pleased grunt when the hunk of meat finally came free, and he carefully set it on his plate before leaning back into the couch cushions.

"Only when I'm expectin' t'be shot down," Cid answered, "an' I never know what t'expect from you so I just assume the worst's gonna happen. Hasn't yet, an' I hope it never will, but that don't change my thinkin'." _So are we…talkin'? What? Hell, I don't know nothin'._ "Guess that bothers ya, huh? I'll work on it." Cid continued eating until he felt he could not stomach any more of the chicken, and by that time he had downed two glasses of wine. The warmth had set in, and though he was vaguely sleepy, he was more interested in entertaining Valentine. "Say…y'ever have a dream? Maybe when y'were a kid, somethin' y'know y'can't have now?"

Vincent snorted. "Handling timidity in conversation has never been my forte, Mr. Highwind." He had managed to crunch down a bit more of the very dead bird, but just couldn't get around any more. He had tried, but he just couldn't, settling instead to keep working on the wine. As a result of his nearly empty stomach and his four glasses of wine to Cid's two, he was feeling quite a bit more relaxed, but a long way from good and drunk. _Thank you, mako_, he thought wryly as he kicked back his fourth glass and filled his fifth. Upside? The wine was tasting better. "A dream?" he murmured, studying the slightly watery wine. "Yes, but then don't we all?" He leaned back into the couch with a contented sigh. "So what is your unreachable dream, Mr. Highwind?"

"I wanted t'fly," he said simply. "I mean, I guess ev'ry kid wants to at some point, but me- I was really gonna do it. Ain't thought about things like that in a long time. Bein' 'roun' you, it makes me remember."Cid stood and retrieved the drawing of the _Tiny Bronco_, knowing that it would mean little to Valentine but needing to show someone anyway. _Just don't laugh at me._ "I think that's why it hurts so much. Y'make me feel closer to it than ever before, but at th'same time, I know it's still gonna stay too far away t'reach. So I…I can't figure out if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but I wanna find out. That's…that's why I wanna keep spendin' time with ya. I'm not askin' ya here 'cause I think I'm gonna get you in bed or make you belong t'me or whatever." Another wry smile formed on Cid's face as he pushed away his empty glass. _But I can't promise nothin' when I'm drunk_. "Understand? This isn't a way fer me t'use ya, it's just somethin' fer me t'look forward to. Even if it hurts, I like bein' around ya, but I don't really know why yet." Cid sighed at the end of his speech, realizing that he had made almost no sense, even to himself. _It's almost like I'm fallin' for 'im. Shit…Guess I do have a death wish after all._

Vincent pursed his lips. He didn't entirely believe the cop, but at the moment he didn't really care. "That's a fine dream, Mr. Highwind." He murmured, taking another long drink of his wine as he studied the rather detailed drawing the cop had held out to him. "A fine dream, and not entirely out of reach just yet, regardless of what you may think." He took another drink as he rolled his head to finally meet Highwind's eyes sadly. "I wanted to teach. That was my dream. I like children and wanted to teach them." Another drink. "Teach them about literature, and history. But unlike you, that dream is gone. I made my bed, and now I shall have to lie in it." Another drink and he snorted derisively. "And such a coffin it is." He took another drink but only got air. _Well hell, where'd the wine go?_ He thought and leaned forward slowly to pour a sixth glass. It took a little longer that it would have normally, but he got it done. Exhaling loudly, he fell back against the cushions once again.

Cid frowned as he watched Valentine pour yet another glass. He started to ask whether Valentine didn't think he'd had enough, but another question left Cid's mouth instead. "Why didn't you? What stopped ya from doin' what y'wanted to, I mean?"

Vincent froze, his glass halfway to his lips. Carefully, he completed the liquid's journey and took another sip. "Unforeseeable circumstances," he muttered. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and suddenly my future was taken from me. That is all you need to know."

"Understood," Cid said, nodding solemnly and carefully wedging his feet onto the table. "Ah, shit. Sorry. Just habit." Realizing again that he had acted like an animal in front of his guest, he removed his feet and shifted uncomfortably on the couch, trying to find a good position. He ended up a little closer to Valentine than he figured either of them liked, but he had managed to crack his back, and that was the important part. Because, of course, the important part was not that his head had made it onto Valentine's shoulder. That took him a moment to puzzle out, and he sat up again, rubbing the side of his head where it had rested against the other man. "How in hell'd that get there?" he asked, eyeing Valentine suspiciously as if he were somehow to blame for what Cid was treating like an outrageous turn of events.

"Don't look at me," Vincent snorted and drained his glass in one go. "I am jus' sitting here." He went for the wine bottle and emptied the rest of it into his glass. "Sorry, I think I've drunk all your wine. I shall buy you so'more," he mumbled. _Damned cheap wine_, he thought a little fuzzily. "Somethin' better." _When did I feel comfortable enough to get even a little drunk? _He wondered. _Well, whatever. I am, and that is that._

"'Kay," Cid agreed easily. He wasn't going to complain. He also wasn't going to drink the 'better' wine, but it would be here for Vincent's visits. "Jus' don't drink all o' _that_ at one meal or y'might get drunk 'r… somethin'," he warned, settling back against Vincent's shoulder and finding that it was not at all unpleasant. He was taking advantage of the other man after all, but he felt the circumstances made it acceptable. "S'it okay t'just sit here like this a little bit?"

"Don' see why not." Vincent replied, taking another couple of gulps of wine. He grinned wryly. "No danger of me getting _that_ drunk, Highwind. Mako burns alcohol quickly. This…buzz, will be gone in a few hours. But it is rather hot in here; d'you always keep your apartment so warm?" Indeed, he had begun to sweat lightly. He reached for his shirt and unbuttoned the top two buttons, drained his wine and put the glass down. It also didn't help that the cop was suddenly using him as a pillow and backrest, but he just didn't have the will to nudge the man off of him. He laid his head back down against the back of the couch, studying a spot on the ceiling that sort of resembled a squashed mouse.

"S'just 'cause yer used to it bein' so cold all th'time." He wanted to argue on that strain, but found that he could not; Vincent was right. "Heat ain't turned on…a/c's shot… could open a winda, b'I don' reckon it'd close right. Must be you. Yep, s'gotta be yer fault," Cid said on a sigh. "But I don' mind. Like it a little warm." If he tilted his head at the proper angle, Cid could track Vincent's line of sight. "Whatcha lookin' at? Oh, that one. Was here when I got here. Looks like a mouse, don't it? 'Cept with wings an' a…thing on its head. Whadda they call them things? Moogles or somethin'? Kids're crazy 'bout them toys right now. Got one fer Shera's little one," he said, grinning. "So he'll have one as soon as 'e's born an' beat th'rush."

"That is very kind of you," Vincent murmured and blinked slowly. It didn't register until a moment later that he was resting his cheek against the top of the cop's head. "So tell me, Mr. Highwind, what prompted you become involved with the constabulary instead of following your dream?"

Cid snorted. "Th'wha- oh. Like you don't know all about that. Mama couldn't take it after Daddy went bad, an' I was just a kid. Knew better'n t'stay there, so I took off. Went home fer a place t'sleep sometimes 'til he died too. Couple years later, an' I wasn't just a kid, I was a good fer nothin' kid nobody wanted nothin'a do with. A boy's gotta eat, an' if y'gotta steal t'live, y'steal. Lost any chance I had once it came t'that. I didn't have any other choice when th'cops approached me. It was either work fer them or go t'jail, an' I'd already been in an' out enough fer enough overnight visits t'know I didn't wanna go back there."

Vincent winced. _I knew that, and still I asked it_. "Well, then it appears we are both the victims of circumstances out of our control," he said softly.

"Yeah," Cid agreed, voice equally quiet, "but I think I'm glad I had the chance t'meet ya. Heh, who knows? Maybe you coulda been a teacher, an' maybe I'd'a come inta yer classroom t'talk about what it's like t'fly. But this is what we have, an' this is how it is, an' there's no use in doin' anything but tryin'a be happy about it." He relaxed more completely against Vincent, thrilled beyond reason that someone was there to keep him from collapsing and hitting his head on the arm of the couch. "That ain't stoppin' us from tryin'a change it anyway, though, eh? Thank yeh, Vincent, f'it's okay t'call y'that."

"Oh I think we're a bit beyond formal titles now, Mr. Highwind. That is fine, using my given name." He laughed a little sourly. "There is no happiness in the life I have been given, but I try to survive. It's frightening, as I lose a bit more of myself every day. Sometimes I wonder what will be left after everyone takes what they want from me. Perhaps all that will be left is the bastard that I've taken such great pains to portray myself as." He lifted his head off of Highwind's and rested it back against the couch. "I am trying to change it," he whispered. "Did you know I used to play the piano?"

Immediately missing the weight of Vincent's cheek against his head, Cid made a small noise of disappointment and turned his head, chasing the warmth that had left. "Piano, huh? S'sexy," he said, and laughed uncertainly. "Y'don't play anymore?" was his next question, this one too made of curiosity tinged with disappointment. "Bet y'were real good. Woulda loved t'hear that."

"Oh, I was all right," Vincent conceded, shrugging the non-leaned-on shoulder. "My father actually insisted I learn, though I wasn't terribly enthusiastic about it. I don't play much anymore, though Tseng keeps trying to get me to." He chuckled softly as he thought of his second's obscure and subtle attempts to get him to play.

"He's right. Y'oughta take it up again. I'd listen." Cid could feel Vincent chuckling because of the way he was leaning on the other man. "Oughta laugh like that more, too. I'd listen'a that. What th'hell kinda kid were you, anyway?" he asked, rearranging again to keep the pain from his neck. Tossing an arm over Valentine's waist hadn't been part of the plan, but once it was there, he was too lazy to move it, despite the "oof" the gesture earned him. "Jus' can't see that, you bein' a kid, n'matter how hard I try."

Vincent froze at the incredibly bold gesture from cop, but when the man made no additional moves he gradually began to relax and consider the question. "As a child, I was undersized, thin, bony, and painfully shy. Because of my eye color I was picked on nearly constantly, quite often returning home bruised, bloody or both. Until I met Tseng. He came from a single-parent home with no siblings and I suppose he saw me as a younger brother, though we were more or less of the same age. Anyway, he took me under wing as it were and I no longer received the beatings. Rather it was the other boys who did. I had never seen such stoic determination in a fight. No matter how much he took, Tseng never, ever went down. Then I hit my growth spurt, put on a lot of size, really fast. I no longer needed protection, but by then we were inseparable. I think Tseng still thinks I need protection, which is why he is still with me, and I am grateful for it."

"Heh. I like him, y'know? Y'reckon maybe he'd hate me a little less if y'brought 'im here with ya next time?" Vincent, Cid found, was much more comfortable to lie on than the couch itself, but he wasn't going to say that. He was, however, getting increasingly sleepy. He noticed this only after he found himself burrowing deeper into Vincent's shoulder and clinging to him more tightly. "Uh…heh," he said sheepishly, removing his arm and scratching the back of his neck as he pulled away. "I was fallin' asleep on ya just there, I guess. Sorry. Tired," Cid explained, yawning hugely in the direction opposite Vincent. "S'it selfish of me that I don't want y't'go yet?"

"Do you honestly find my company that desirable? Given what I do?" Vincent countered raising an eyebrow.

"S'a difference 'tween who y'are an' what y'do," Cid said sincerely. "Some people might not think so, but I know that's true, 'specially after meetin' you."

"Ah, but you do not know me, Mr. Highwind." Vincent responded. "A lot has changed since I was that little boy." He sighed softly. "What I do has become what I am. It's ironic actually, now that I think about it. I was beaten as a child, and now I am beaten as a man. Humiliated then- and now. I am made to do such horrible things, and my body has been violated in more ways than I care to remember. And I take it upon myself willingly. Some are convinced that I even ask for it. At the end of it all, I'm nothing more than a criminal, a thug, a murderer and a whore." He snorted. "What think you now of your 'company'?" In the back of his mind he knew he would regret saying these things, but alcohol had loosened his tongue, and the words had come unbidden and without thought.

Cid only shook his head sadly. "There's more to ya'n that. You're still in there somewhere. Yer Tseng knows it, an' I know it." He turned back to Vincent. "Y'must know how badly we wanna take away that pain an' humiliation from ya…yes, I count m'self in this, because I care for you. Not as an object or an associate, but as a person…an' someday, I hope, 's a friend. And I know I'm right, I _know_ we're right, 'cause I feel like we have been b'fore. An' I guess I'm a little jealous," he admitted, "that he's closer t'you than I'll ever be when I could do just as much good." Cid placed a hand on Vincent's shoulder. "Please believe me when I tell ya that y'aren't all dead yet. Maybe close…maybe right on th'very edge, but not all gone. Stay with us, Vincent.

A little longer, an' it'll be better, I hope. Fer all of us."

"You poor idealistic fool," Vincent murmured, but his tone held no rancor, no hate or condescension, only a deep sadness. Looking away from Cid as his eyes burned. No one knew the truth. But whose fault was that? He never let anyone in, never told anyone the truth. Instead he blinked quickly to get himself back under control and he looked back at Cid. "I appreciate your faith in me, however misplaced it may be. Perhaps I will not disappoint you. But do not hold out to hope. This world preys upon hope and all things good."

"That it does," Cid agreed. "That it does. But it's like any cycle, isn't it? Some of the good stuff has to survive or the world can't keep turnin'. Y'might hafta look harder for it than y'd ever thought, but it's there. What's more, hope's born from hopelessness. Things c'n only go so far down before somebody comes along an' brings it back up. There's always hope somewhere, Vincent. Let me be the one who holds it fer you." He turned Vincent's face back to him gently, willing his eyes to meet the sad red ones. "Is that…what you see in the children? Hope, an' the faith they still have in this world?" The skin beneath his hands was warm, soft despite the hard exterior Vincent always presented. He wanted to feel more of it, to keep Vincent here forever, but that was not for him. "It's easy t'envy them, I know. But be happy for 'em instead. Be glad that they can feel that way, even if only for a little while. Even though we've lost that chance, they haven't. Don't wish to take that fer yer own."

"You are right Mr. Highwind. It is a cycle, and a vicious one at that. I see the children, the hopes and dreams in their eyes, and then they find out the truth. They see the world for what it is. I see their parents taken away, because I do it! I see them end up mako-junkies and thieves. I see them end up working for bastards like ShinRa. And I _am_ selfish, Highwind. I'm so _tired_ of being empty, of being used and hurt, raped and beaten, all for someone else. I want a little of that hope for myself. I _need_ a reason to keep going, and so far none of them have been acceptable, and so I continue to die a little more each day until there will be nothing left to save, nothing to redeem, nothing left but a monster. A monster like the one I serve now." He knew he sounded a little desperate, a little feral, but he was helpless to do anything about it.

"You will never become like him. Do you know why? Last time, when I talked about the people who love you...I meant it. They won't let that happen fer you. You know full well that Tseng'd sooner kill you 'imself than watch you become th'next Shinra, and I believe he really would if it ever came down to that. As fer me, this is how I'll do my part. Help ya keep yer sanity, huh? Every man needs a drinkin' buddy, Vincent, an' I'd be honored t'be yours." One of his hands was still lightly holding Vincent's face. The other had fallen to the side of the couch in a fist, Cid's meager attempt to restrain his next action. "'Course, seein' as it's me, I might end up bein' th'reason y'lose yer sanity," he said wryly, and the fingers on Vincent's face fluttered for a moment before relaxing as Cid leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Vincent's lips. "But that's my promise, that I'll help you any way I can."

Vincent blinked, startled at Cid's unexpected action, before raising his fingers to touch his lips. "Do not make promises you cannot keep, Highwind," he whispered, searching the cop's too-blue eyes. Funny how he'd never noticed the color before. He then cleared his throat and mumbled awkwardly, "I should go. I have imposed upon your hospitality enough." As Highwind sat back, he inelegantly struggled to his feet, swayed alarmingly before sitting back down with a grunt. "On second thought, I should probably sober up a little more first, so that I might at least be able to make it down the stairs upright and not on my face. May I impose a moment more, and request a glass of water?"

"Sure thing," Cid whispered, and took his time in bringing back the water so Vincent would be able to process anything he needed to. He'd made a mistake again, and the kid would probably come storming in within a few days to kill him. When he did go back, it was with a triumphant grin and a few more words. "By th'way, Valentine, promisin' t'do what I can can't be a promise I can't keep. 'Cause if I c'n do it, I c'n do it, right? So then if…aw, hell, th'more I think about it, th'less sense it makes. Makin' m'head hurt. Sure did sound damn good a minute ago. Anyhow, y'get what I mean. Seems like it's been a long time now since I promised I wouldn't betray ya, an' I plan t'stick to that. An' that means," he continued, smile still in place, "that I will keep any promise I make t'you."

After handing over the water, he darted quickly to his bedroom to fulfill the initial promise. "You almost let me ferget all about it," he accused, passing the tube of mako to Vincent. "An' then I'd just look like an asshole."

Vincent didn't get a word of it. His lips still tingled from Highwind little peck and his brain was trying to function under the fuzzy effects of the alcohol, even as the mako in his body began to burn it off with the help of the water. Dumbly, he took the wrapped mako and blinked up at the cop. "Thank you," he mumbled, putting the tube in his pocket. This evening had been one hell of a trip, and he knew that in morning he was going kick himself in the ass for what he had said. He groaned and held the glass of lukewarm, rusty-tasting water to his forehead. He didn't want to go back. He wanted to stay here where he could enjoy at least a little anonymity. "Why?" He blurted, looking miserably up at Highwind. "Why me? I mean, I know you want to use me to get ahead in the force, but why this? Why the charade? I don't understand."

"I dunno. Truth is, I really don't understand what yer askin'." He smiled again and sat down next to Vincent. "There's no charade except the one I put on at work, an' y'know why that has t'be there. Know what I think, Vincent?" Cid asked around a widening grin. "I think y're stallin'. S'perfectly all right w'me if that's the case. C'n stay all night if y'want to. Bed's always clean, seein' as how I hardly ever make it there. Plus it's mostly Shera's, even though she don't come around so much anymore. I've mostly gotten used to it by now, but I still always feel better sleepin' if there's somebody else nearby." He stopped to snort. "Though I doubt you'd get any kind o' sleep in a bed like that. Y'must be used t'so much nicer stuff," he finished a bit bitterly, sad again that he was never able to offer anything of worth to his guests.

"Still, it's…it's all there if y'need it. I remember once," Cid began, tell-tale dreamy look of another anecdote falling into place, "long time ago now, musta been. Anyway, it was in th'years b'tween havin' a place t'stay, right? I came across a mattress-bedspring set just hangin' out in one o' the little local dumps. It was in damn good condition –had no frame, though- 'cept fer one or two little stains on it. I couldn't imagine why anybody woulda thrown it out. I got ran off th'property in th'middle o' th'night, but fer the couple hours I was there…that was th'best sleep I ever got. I think I'd get me one o' them if I c'n ever afford it. Big ol' king-sized thing, big enough fer two. Y'think anybody could ever fall in love with me, Vincent? Oh well. More room fer me if not, eh? An' it'd have chocobo down pillas. Eh, nah, 'd prob'ly just make me sneeze. Maybe them contour foam things, then. Bet my neck wouldn't hurt s'much all the time if I had me one o' those." In this speech he had shown no contempt for those with more than him, nor had he aimed to make Vincent feel guilty or coerce him into providing Cid with one of the coveted pillows. He had simply been delighting in the fact that they existed and that someday, he might be able to procure for himself everything he had seen in those late-night advertisements that played across his blurry TV set.

"Gonna need yer help sometimes, I think, t'keep me from buyin' m'self stuff just t'have it. I already know that ain't no way t'live, but it sure is temptin', ain't it?" Nearly desperate for a cigarette, Cid turned to Vincent and said, "Well, I'm 'bout tuckered out. If yer stayin', I'mma need you off the couch. I'll walk ya back there if y'don't think y'c'n make it yerself. An' if y're goin', I'll try t'wait up with ya, but-" he paused to yawn again "-better make it quick if that's th'case." _If I asked, wouldja stay with me 'til I fall asleep?_

Vincent blinked. If the last verbal assault hadn't lost him, this one did. He was still back trying to figure out how king-sized mattresses had somehow morphed into love…and _what _kind of pillows again? "I don't…what?" He put his hand to his forehead. There had been a question in there somewhere, an accusation. He struggled to remember and stilled when he did. _I'm stalling? How can you think I'm stalling? I simply want to know what you want of me? Stop stringing me along with pretty promises and fake reassurances!_ But instead he murmured, "No-no I don't think that would be appropriate. I'll go. I've kept you up long enough with my nonsense and petty, selfish problems." He slowly drained his water, spilling a little down in his chin in the process. Finishing the water, he placed his glass on the TV-stand next to the couch and got just as slowly to his feet. Any faster and he probably would have ended up on his face on the floor. Taking a moment to find his balance, he only swayed a little as he went over to his coat, and fished around in his coat pocket until he found his phone. He pulled the thing out, flipped it open and squinted at the numbers a little, waving off the cop when Highwind offered to help. "I got it, I got it," he muttered. He punched Tseng's speed dial.

"Tseng? I need you to pick me up…no, I'm fine I'm jus-…yes, I'm a little drunk…no…NO- _ow_…yeah, I'm fine I just yelled a little too loud, fucking cheap wine…don't you laugh at me you asshole, now get up here.... oh yeah, right, 'cause you _want_ to see me fall down the stairs…that's not funny…_so _not funny Tseng…look I jus' wanna go home…_yes_ I am whining, I think I get to whine too and not have to listen t-…did you just tell me to shut up?…_Fine_, see if I talk to you on the way home…just…hurry up, Mr. Highwind wishes to go to bed…er…couch, whatev-…oh, don't Tseng, please, don't start with the sex talk…" Suddenly he realized that he was still in Highwind's apartment and that the cop was listening to him. Face red with embarrassment he said quickly, "Look, just get up here and take me home." He ended the call and flipped the phone shut with a 'click', placed it back into his pocket, carefully took the jacket off of the rack and after chasing an errant sleeve for a moment, awkwardly put it on. "Tseng is on his way. Thank you again for…dinner and the…wine. I apologize if I made a nuisance of myself."

Cid just grinned. "Nah, I had fun! An' hey," he said, having listened to Vincent's every word, "they ain't petty problems if they're enough t'bother ya, an' I talk enough nonsense that I deserve t'have some spit back at me." His hand made its way to Vincent's shoulder again, this time in a friendly clap on the back that lasted a little longer than planned, as he had to steady Vincent afterwards. "Hey, I mean it, though. Tell yer Tseng he's more'n welcome t'join us. Heh. 'less o 'course y'd rather have me all ta yerself, huh?" He winked, and a few minutes later opened the door as he heard Tseng's footsteps coming nearer. "Mornin'!" he said brightly, and he had a point- it was past midnight, after all.

His first thought was that Highwind had finally demanded payment for the mako, as Tseng stood in the doorway, fist raised to knock slowly lowering as he took in the cop's cheerful expression and Vincent's flushed face and averted gaze. He _detested _seeing his friend look so ashamed. But then he quickly realized that that wasn't it. Vincent was uncomfortable, but that was mostly the alcohol, and Highwind just appeared…happy. He wondered briefly just what had transpired between the two, but concluded that it was good, whatever it was. Face set in its usual stoic and unreadable mask, Tseng nodded once to the cop and turned to his boss and friend of many years. "Come, sir, let's get you home."

Vincent nodded and as Tseng held out his arm, his friend tried to walk forward but only succeeded in stumbling spectacularly, and falling right into him. Reflexively he wrapped his outstretched arm around Vincent's shoulders and smiled nostalgically when the other man's arm went around his waist. How many times had he supported his friend in this fashion? Too many to count.

"Thank you, Tseng." Vincent murmured in that deep, rich voice that always reminded Tseng of warm Wutai honey. "You are too good to me, I don't deserve you."

He snorted. "No, you don't, but you're stuck with me anyway. Now come on before I decide to destroy what's left of both of our dignities and _carry_ you down the stairs."

"You wouldn't dare!" Vincent _actually_ looked stricken.

"Don't _tempt_ me, _niisan_," Tseng warned softly and squeezed his arm briefly as he stifled a chuckle. "I've done it before, and I'll do it again if I have to, now _walk_."

As they began to make their way down the stairs, Tseng looked back up at the cop and nodded his head again. "Good evening, Mr. Highwind. I'll see that he makes his next appointment with you in two weeks." When Vincent mumbled something about 'knowing his own schedule', he actually rolled his eyes, lips quirking up nearly imperceptibly and said fondly, "Do shut up, Vincent."

Cid laughed as the two of them walked away, and he fell asleep smiling that night and eagerly looking forward to that next appointment. It seemed so far away, but he knew it would be worth the wait if it were anywhere near as entertaining as this night had been. "Don't regret it, Vincent," he whispered into the cushion as his eyes finally drifted shut.

When they got back to the ShinRa Tower, Vincent had mostly sobered up. Now all he felt was tired, and in desperate need of a shower. At his door he bid Tseng a good evening, thanked the man again, and softly shut the door behind himself. Leaning back against the wood he looked around his tiny, neat set of rooms and sighed tiredly. His ruby gaze settled upon the ancient upright piano that sat forgotten in the corner, nothing like the monster grand in his rarely visited penthouse, but like the grand he insisted it be kept in tune. Shrugging out of his jacket he tossed it carelessly over a chair, dug into his pocket and laid the mako tube on the table, and began to unbutton his silk shirt to hang open as he walked over to the piano. He ran his hand over the rich wood lovingly, a sad smile in place. It had been so very long since he had played; he wondered if he still remembered how. His eyes then drifted up from the keys that used to occupy so much of his time back in the beginning of all of this, to the half-finished sheet music that he had begun composing back when the world was still young and full of promise. Absently he sat down on the bench and stared at the notes. He had begun writing this piece for his mother, but she had died before he had finished, and so it lingered on, as forgotten as the music that had brought him such peace before. His eyes burned, and his vision became blurry until a tear found its way out and onto his cheek.

"Oh, mother, I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely, reaching out to run his fingers over the notes. "Look at what has become of your son now. How ashamed you would be of me." He then lowered his face into his arms and wept. He wept until he was completely drained, and ended up staring down at the ivory keys. Listlessly he trailed his fingers over the keys and the moisture that had accumulated there. Now empty, Vincent sat up and stared at the notes, old friends from a life gone by, and before he knew what he was doing his hands found their way onto the white tabs of wood and ivory. Slowly he began to play; haltingly at first, the years of inactivity making his movements jerky and hesitant, but his body remembered even if his mind did not. Soon he was lost, captive to one haunting melody after another, his body hunched over the keys almost protectively, his awareness on nothing but the music, he played until the sky became bright and the sun filled the room with dancing dust motes. The world outside carried on, people went to work, and couples met to spend time together, and still Vincent kept playing.

"Why are you dragging me with you, Reno?" Tseng said, stifling a yawn. He had been up most of the night, unable to sleep out of worry for Vincent.

"'Cause I want you t'see the boss's reaction when I show 'im _this_!" Reno said, flicking a sheet of paper under Tseng's nose. "I found out who's been skimming!"

Tseng nodded. Indeed Vincent would want to know this information. The culprit had skimmed _millions_ from the company for nearly a year now and had managed to continually elude their best efforts to find them. Only Reno's ingenious talent with technology could have uncovered the nearly invisible trail. He opened his mouth to comment on Reno's job well done when something made him freeze, black, hawk-like eyes going wide in surprise. _It couldn't be_, he thought.

"What's th'matter, Tseng?" Reno asked worriedly.

"Shhh! Do you hear that?"

Reno's eyes went unfocused as he concentrated on hearing what Tseng did. His eyes widened as he looked at his superior. "That's some wicked-skilled music! Where's it comin' from?"

"He's playing again," Tseng whispered, eyes distant, and shimmering suspiciously.

"Wha-?" Reno asked inarticulately. Then it dawned on him just _who_ he was talking about. "That's the _boss_ playin' that? Shit, I didn't know he could play! He's really good!"

Tseng smiled wistfully. "He would say that he is good enough."

"_What_ever, th'man's a genius." The redhead gave a little whistle then began to move toward Vincent's door only to have Tseng stop him with a firm grip on his bicep. "Whaaat? C'mon, man, th' boss'll be _pissed_ if I don't tell him about this."

"Then let me give it to him," Tseng said, rolling his eyes at Reno's indignant squawk. "With due credit, of course. Just…give him this, Reno. Let him be."

* * *

Look, snuggling! Isn't that nice? *snickers*


	9. Chapter 9

RP with calvi_sama on LJ, calvi-sama dot livejournal dot com; for future chapters, the "uncut, uncensored" versions will be hosted there:D

Not a problem with this chapter, but I thought I'd mention it for you new people :D

* * *

Cid woke the next morning thinking of Vincent and what it would have been like to wake up with him. His morning followed that pattern –cooking for Vincent, having breakfast with him, etc. – until he made it to wondering how it would feel to shower with Vincent. At that point, he figured he had gone far enough and was beginning to sound more than a little obsessed. His enduring good mood over nearly the next week was only enhanced by the completion of the arrest Vincent had set up for him. Palmer had laughed jollily and clapped him on the back for a job well done ("for once," he was sure to add), but Scarlet had only looked at him suspiciously.

That made him nervous. _She_ made him nervous. But for all that nervousness, he looked straight ahead at his chance to thank Vincent. This coming meeting, he would be delivering not one tube of mako, but two. With that, he would be giving Vincent the option to miss one of their meetings with no hard feelings. Cid could understand that in Vincent's line of work, some business could be postponed and some could not. Cid did not want to be responsible for anything less than good happening to Vincent, but he knew the man would need the mako whether he met Cid or not. That spurred on the decision to an extra tube of mako for every fifth meeting.

This would only be their third, yes, but Cid felt for some reason that it was necessary. If Vincent missed no meetings and stockpiled that mako, he could eventually enjoy months of freedom from both Rufus and Cid. As tempting as it was to want to keep him as close as possible, Cid saw their situation for what it was, and he would not allow Vincent to be a slave for the substance if he could help it.

Midway through the time in between his scheduled meetings with the cop, Highwind, found Vincent bent over his desk going through shipping manifests and frowning fiercely. From the looks of these, the authorities were upping their presence at the shipyards, confiscating cargo and making random searches. This wasn't good. He would have to find ways to compensate his buyers for their lost shipments, not to mention schedule a meeting with his overseas associates, something he was _not_ looking forward to. There came a brisk knock on his door.

"Come!" he called out, looking up.

Tseng poked his head into his office. "Sorry to disturb you, sir. But the Junon Representative is here to see you."

Vincent looked up then, frown deepening. "Junon," he said, confusedly. "But we don't have anyone in Ju-"

"Not _that_ kind of representative, sir. But the governmental _liaison_." Tseng said with an odd expression on his face.

"Oh, _crap_, just what I need," he muttered. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face with both hands and sighed in resignation as he gestured absently with a hand. "Show him in."

Tseng's expression changed into one of wry amusement. "Very well, sir." Tseng hesitated, a mischievous glint in his black eyes. "You also have that Presidential Gala tonight, do not forget." Then the man was gone. Vincent groaned softly. He did _not_ want to go to that ridiculous farce where he would have to smile and shake hands with the slimiest public officials…_Look who is talking, idiot._

A few minutes after the door had closed, it opened again as Tseng escorted an attractive auburn-haired young _woman_ into his office, seating her across from him, bowing and then retreating, pulling the door behind him. Vincent raised an eyebrow. "And how may I help you Ms.-"

"Rui. Shalua Rui, and I was under the impression that you were expecting me, Mr. Valentine." The young woman said curtly, raising her own eyebrow and crossing very shapely legs encased in a knee-length figure-hugging skirt.

"Uh-" Vincent said dumbly before catching himself. "Yes, I was, please forgive me. I've had a very busy morning." He gestured to the piles of paper scattered over his desk.

"So it would seem," Shalua said matter-of-factly, settling her hands in her lap after first adjusting the wire-rimmed glasses on her nose. "I'll have you know, Mr. Valentine, that I do not appreciate being 'handed off'."

"I imagine you wouldn't, Ms. Rui," Vincent said softly. She was attractive, he noticed, and he liked her no-nonsense air. "So what may I do for you?"

"We need your people to look the other way when we receive medical shipments." Shalua said, cutting to the chase immediately.

Vincent's eyebrow rose in amusement, face impassive. He liked this woman. "I'm afraid I do not understand, Ms. Rui," He said.

"Do not play coy with me, Mr. Valentine," Shalua said impatiently. "I do not see how you can sit there and pretend that you have no knowledge of the raids taking place on our medical supply caravans."

"And I shall continue to sit here and repeat myself. I have no knowledge of this," Vincent replied, beginning to get irritated himself. "And how do you know I am responsible for this? _Why_ would I 'raid' – to use such an uncouth and antiquated term – a _medical supply caravan?_ The resale value of most routine medical supplies is at an all-time low. Besides, surely you can see that I have more than enough resources to take care of any _medical_ needs I may have and not resort to common thievery?"

"Clearly." Shalua said wryly, as she reached over his desk to hand him a recording device. "But proof is proof."

Vincent sat there, eyeing it a moment before he reached forward to bridge the gap between them and take the device from the woman. There was a moment when their fingers brushed, causing Shalua to blush lightly before leaning back in her seat and averting her eyes. Vincent smirked and leaned back in his chair as he pushed 'play'. There were some sounds of a scuffle and muffled voices that finally transformed into a conversation as the recording device was brought closer. The accusations and insults being slung did not interest him so much as the last several seconds of the recording.

"Who do you work for?" snarled a man's voice.

"Fuck you!" was the strained response, as though the owner of said voice were being forcibly restrained.

There were the sounds of fists meeting flesh, and a moan, followed by several seconds of heavy breathing. Finally: "I'll ask you again, scum. Who do you work for?"

Another watery groan, then "Vincent Valentine. Out of Midgar."

Vincent clicked off the recording device, his face dark and terrible."How did you come by this?" he asked, his voice icy and calm.

"That was collected from a successful counter-ambush. These 'raids' have been going on for some time, and finally we got some useful intelligence. You hold the results of that in your hands," Shalua explained angrily. "Don't you wish to hear the rest?"

"I've heard enough," Vincent said softly, placing the recording device into the inside breast pocket of his suit-coat. "I'll be keeping this; I'll listen to it later."

When Shalua opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off. "My dear Ms. Rui, you honestly didn't expect to come here, show me this – very damning – evidence against me and then expect me to give it _back_ did you?"

"So you are admitting to being responsible for these thefts?" Shalua countered.

"Quite the contrary," Vincent said calmly, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth as he leaned back in his chair once again. "None of this was done under my order, and I _will_ be using all of my…considerable resources, to find _all_ of those responsible for throwing my name around so carelessly. Do not concern yourself with this any further, Ms. Rui. It shall be taken care of."

"Am I supposed to just go back to my superiors and tell them that? Just _what_ exactly is going to be done about this, Mr. Valentine?" Shalua demanded aggressively, leaning forward in emphasis.

But Vincent was leaning over on one elbow and grinning at her. "Red."

Shalua blinked, her mouth hanging open in mid-rant. "What?"

"I am seeing you in red, Ms. Rui," Vincent murmured.

"Considering your rather unique and slightly creepy eye color, I am not surprised," Shalua said in reflex, clearly still confused.

Vincent chuckled. "Clever, but no. Something off the shoulder I should think, figure hugging. You would put your hair up of course."

"Mr. Valentine, _what _are you talking about?" Shalua asked, exasperated.

"I was hoping that you might indulge me by accompanying me to the President's gala this evening," he said, grin still in place.

"What? I…don't you…I…" Shalua spluttered, flushing prettily. "Mr. Valentine, I hardly think that this is appropriate material, nor the time, to be discussing it, given the _reason_ I am here."

"I disagree," Vincent said briskly getting up to walk around the desk and sit upon it, looking down at Shalua with his arms crossed. "What better time than after the conclusion of business."

"The conclu-" Shalua began then stood up to stare Vincent in the eye. "Mr. Valentine…"

"Vincent."

"What?" Shalua stopped, blinking again.

"I would like it if you called me _Vincent_, Ms. Rui," Vincent said fighting a chuckle, grin widening slowly.

"Very well, Vincent, I…wait a minute!" Shalua said, waving her hands and finally pointing a finger at him. "You are distracting me, Mr. Valentine. Our business is _not_ concluded. I need to know what you plan to do about these cargo raids and…"

"Ms. Rui…may I be so bold as to call you Shalua?" Vincent said softly, calmly, wrapping his hand around her pointing finger and lowering their hands as Shalua nodded, stunned. "Our business is very much concluded. You have presented me with evidence that someone is using my name and stealing medical supplies bound for your providence, and I have said that I shall take care of it. So when you return to your superiors, simply tell them that you have spoken to me personally and that together we have devised a solution to the problem and that you are leaving it in my very capable hands."

"But, but, but…" Shalua stammered. "I don't know what you're going to do, or even that you will do it!"

"You will have to take my word for it, Shalua. I do _not_ like my name being used without my knowledge, and so I shall _personally_ take care of that as a top priority. If they push you for details, just tell them that in the interest of security, both your government's and mine, that you have given your word _not_ to speak of it. If…" he stopped her before she could speak. "They push you for information…" he reached into his coat pocket and produced a business card and slipped it into her hand. "Give them this and tell them they are welcome to call me to discuss this issue further, but that I have strictly requested your silence in this matter." As Shalua nodded and looked down at the business card he said warmly, "Now, about the gala…"

"I-I don't have anything to wear. I assume it's formal?" Shalua stammered turning a shade of pink that Vincent found very agreeable.

"Mm, black tie, very formal," Vincent said in mock-seriousness.

Seeing a way out, Shalua said defiantly, "Then I'm afraid I cannot attend. Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Valentine."

Vincent sighed theatrically. "I asked you to _please_ call me Vincent, Ms. Rui."

Shalua huffed. "_Fine_, but that doesn't change the fact that I cannot go with you to this…gala," she said, waving her hand in emphasis.

"So you are saying that if you had something to wear, then you would accompany me?" Vincent asked, cocking his head until he captured her gaze.

Shalua opened her mouth and realized that she was caught. Instead of stammering and attempting to get out of it, she opted for simple fact. "Yes."

Vincent's grin widened. He really _did_ like her. "Excellent! Then I shall pick you up at seven. Meanwhile you have…"

"But, I already said that I don't have anything to wear!" Shalua interrupted him, exasperated.

"…at least six hours to shop and get ready. I'll have Tseng take you to the finest shops until you find what you want. I do hope you will consider red and off the shoulder…you would look positively ravishing…"

"Vincent, _stop!_" Shalua said. When he paused, she looked at him in disbelief. "What are you _talking_ about? I don't have that kind of money…"

"It is taken care of. Tseng will handle the finances. Think of it as a…gift, for causing you so much trouble." Vincent said, giving her a radiant smile and loving how she blushed in reply.

"That's insulting," Shalua sniffed. "Buying me a dress to counter the thefts…"

"That is not why I am buying you the dress." Vincent sobered. "My counter to the thefts is to take care of the problem so that they will never bother you again. I am buying you the dress…" he tilted her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. "Because I wish to apologize for my boorish behavior. And to finish off the apology I shall ask you properly, as a gentleman would a lady. Ms. Rui, would you give me the honor of accompanying me to the President's Gala this evening? And as a gentleman, I shall of course completely understand if you decline my offer, and respect that. But I would humbly request that you seriously consider it, as I enjoy your company immensely and find it very refreshing."

"I'll bet you say that to all the women," Shalua whispered.

"Only the ones I like," Vincent replied just as softly. "Am I to hope that that is a yes, then?"

Shalua nodded and smiled tentatively. "Yes. It is."


	10. Chapter 10

Co-written with calvi_sama on LJ. For this part, she wrote Vincent, Tseng, Reno, Rude, Shalua -give the girl some credit! I wrote Cid, charming man he is, and a couple other lines for various characters. You can see who does the majority of the work *holds up a "fans this way" sign; points to Cal*

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Standing in the lobby of the modest hotel, The Seventh Heaven, and dressed in a tuxedo that was proving to be rather itchy about the neck and wrists, Vincent awaited his 'date' for the evening. When 7:40 hit, he bit the inside of his cheek as he gradually lost the desire to pace. He was about to go upstairs to Shalua's room when Tseng stopped his action with a hand placed on his shoulder. Glancing sharply at his second with an irritated order to release him on his tongue, his words caught in his throat as he followed Tseng's gaze to the stairs leading up to the first floor. He blinked and cleared his throat as Tseng released him, watching Shalua slowly descend the steps. She was stunning, having apparently taken seriously his request for an off-the-shoulder red gown that did indeed hug her shapely body. He couldn't stop himself as he appraised her, running his equally red eyes over her pale, bare shoulders, down her chest and the hint of cleavage that was revealed, to her flat stomach and curvy hips where the gown relaxed its hold to fall in satiny waves to the floor. Her hair was up in an elaborate coif that left gentle curls framing her face and brushing her slender neck.

As she walked up to them, Vincent could see the lovely face behind the wire-rimmed glasses flushed lightly. A tiny string of diamonds upon a thin golden chain rested upon her chest, and delicate diamond drops adorned her ears, no doubt a touch from Tseng. He noticed also that she wore very little makeup, just enough to highlight her features, and he approved. Very much so. He never liked a woman who hid herself behind any kind of cosmetic, and he found that he could not tear his eyes off of Shalua. She reminded him so very much of _her._ When she stopped in front of them, Vincent reached down and took her delicate hand in his and raised it to his mouth, brushing a kiss across the back of it. "You're breathtaking, Ms. Rui."

Shalua cleared her throat, averting her eyes. "Yes, well…thank you, Mr. Valentine. And I thought we had agreed to call each other by our first names? Or have you rescinded that request?"

Vincent chuckled. Tonight was going to be a very interesting night. "No. No I have not, Shalua. Come," he offered her his arm, which she took, "let us to the ball."

Shalua snorted, but ginned widely. "Do not confuse this convenience with a fairy tale, Vincent."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Shalua." Vincent said, face mirroring hers as he lead her to the waiting car, Tseng following silently behind them.

When they arrived at the gala, Vincent helped Shalua out of the car and began walking her up the carpet to the waiting doorman, who was none other than Cid Highwind. Vincent only just caught himself from reacting to that, and managed to keep his face straight and impassive. But in the back of his mind he hoped that the cop's job wasn't _just_ watching the door.

Cid had accepted the job with gritted teeth. He should have known, of course, that the arrest was going to draw attention to him. That was, after all, the ultimate goal. He had just overlooked the fact that he would have to work for that attention. Vincent had warned him of that, and he had thought he understood, but now he was truly beginning to. His comfortable, if boring, days as courier and office joke were at risk. Well, he would always be a joke, but his workload was in danger of increasing exponentially.

And really, bouncing at the gala? Nothing of any interest ever happened at those. The Presidential Committee was just trying to save money by hiring people it already paid…and then refusing to pay them extra for the job. Scarlet had given him the list of guests three days beforehand, warned him not to lose it, and advised that he begin learning the names and faces on it.

He arrived at the building an hour before the event was due to start, dressed to match the guests and accompanied by a clipboard and dark glasses. The list was still around and only minimally damaged- it now bore several fingerprints and one large tea stain. However, Cid knew every name on it and had a mental picture of the face that matched each. Details of a face were his specialty, perhaps because he delighted in people as much as he rued them. The slightest differences between two people were likely to fail to escape his notice, and he supposed that was why he had been given this job.

The guests began arriving not much later. Cid found it particularly easy to tell true guests from impostors –and one or two impostors did try to get past him. In response to Cid's very loud inquiry as to why anyone would bother trying to sneak into a thing like this, the second attempted sneak answered that he had been paid by the real Mr. Andrews to appear at the gala in his place. Cid agreed that Mr. Andrews had been very wise indeed to wish to avoid this mess of an event, but regretted that he could not allow the stand-in to proceed without authorization from the Presidential Committee. The Committee, of course, would be hurt that Andrews had even tried this, and another political mess would begin, and, well, frankly, no one wanted to be the cause of that. The double, dejected about the loss of the money and all the time wasted learning Andrews' relationships with other guests, left with no more trouble.

One name on the list stuck out especially for Cid, naturally: that of one Vincent Valentine. Surely Vincent would not be attending such an event?

The question was answered nearly an hour into the admittance period. Vincent, accompanied by a rather pretty young woman, approached Cid and waited for access to the building to be granted. Trying not to react favorably to Vincent was difficult for Cid. He wanted so badly to greet him, talk to him, offer to buy him a drink later, or otherwise interact with this man he still barely knew, but that would be a stupid decision on his part, and he made quite enough of those. Still, he had to show recognition in some way. He winked behind his glasses, knowing Vincent would see, and began teasing Shalua.

"Name?"

"Shalua Rui."

"Not on the list," Cid said gravely. "No access."

Her mouth dropped open as she spluttered for a moment, looking accusingly at Vincent. "But I'm his date. He invited me here-"

"Not on the list."

A voice from the back called, "Highwind! What's the holdup?"

"Nothin' at all," Cid yelled back, and said to the waiting pair, "Y'all go on in. Sorry fer the wait."

Vincent, looking only slightly peeved, escorted Shalua into the building.

_Cute, Highwind_, Vincent thought irritably as he placed a comforting hand at the base of Shalua's back. He would have dwelled on Highwinds's childish behavior more but they were descended upon by a nearly continuous stream of well-wishers, a loose and more flattering term for 'brownnosers'.

When they got a moment to breathe, Shalua tugged on Vincent's arm subtly and said, "Perhaps you'd like to dance? I don't think I can take much more of this disgusting, fake, vacuous, unending parade of _lies_…and I swear if that fat pig what's-his-face…_Palmer_ grabs my ass one more time, I _swear_ I'm going to scratch his eyes out!"

Vincent was so startled that he laughed out loud and tightened his hold around Shalua's waist, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "My dear, I _knew_ I liked you." Shalua chuckled in response and allowed Vincent to lead her out onto the dance floor where they spent the next half an hour dancing together.

Thirty more minutes later, admission was closed to everyone. Cid was relieved of his duty and invited to join the rest of the guests inside, an offer he accepted quite happily.

He decided to seek out Vincent and watch him from a distance, the most he could do in his situation. He certainly couldn't be seen casually conversing with him; he was content to mix with the crowd and sneak an occasional peek at Vincent and his date. He did note that the pants Vincent was wearing made his ass look absolutely great, and elected to bring up that comment during their next meeting. Yes, everything was fine- until, that is, he saw them kiss.

It wasn't really so much a kiss as it was a peck on the cheek not dissimilar to Cid's kiss for Vincent a few days prior –except, of course, that it was on the cheek- and Shalua squawked and flailed appropriately at the unexpected gesture. Cid felt a strong, unreasonable surge of envy at that, and even more at Vincent's laugh following the incident.

Valentine was not his, Cid knew that, and he knew that things would always be so. Even so, he stared longer than he should have, feeling put out and even a bit hurt. Though he should not have let his eyes rest on them for so long, he would be glad for allowing it later.

Finally, by mutual consent, they headed toward one of the enclosed courtyards. Vincent snagged two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter as they walked. By sheer luck, they had the courtyard to themselves. Shalua headed over to the fountain in the center and took a seat on one of the stone benches beside it, while Vincent stood and watched the water, lost in thought. They enjoyed a moment of silence, each sipping the champagne before Shalua asked softly, cocking her head, "So, is there a Mrs. Valentine?"

Vincent chuckled quietly, but it was a sad sound. "No. Are you volunteering, Ms. Rui?"

"You know, I've noticed that whenever you get uncomfortable, you revert to calling me 'Ms. Rui'," Shalua said.

Vincent looked over at her and shook his head, grinning lopsidedly. "And you keep impressing me. If you ever find yourself out of job, please do not hesitate to call. I would love to have someone of your sharp wit and keen sense of observation in my circle."

"And _you_ keep avoiding my question," Shalua said wryly, moving over to pat the bench beside her.

Vincent sighed and walked over to sit down. "I was married once, Shalua. But…not anymore."

Shalua nodded and took his hand. "I see. You split up?"

"Why do you want to know?"

She shrugged. "I just don't see how a woman could let a man like you go. You're very special, Vincent. Infuriating, frustrating, a bit manipulative, but also noble, honorable and gentle."

Vincent snorted. "Oh do not start that with me, Shalua. You know what I do for a living. You've heard the stories…"

Shalua silenced him with fingers pressed to his lips. "Yes, I have. But I've also seen the man and looked into his eyes. And I know that that is not who you _really_ are. It's a job, Vincent, and you do what you must. Sometimes that job can consume you, and you have to work to remember who you are. Do you think that my position is any easier? I come home at night and wonder if I'll _ever_ be clean again after all of the lies that I've had to tell."

Vincent just stared at Shalua, gazing into her calm blue eyes until he couldn't any more, looking away as he pulled his hand from her grasp and leaned forward onto his knees. He toyed with the stem of his champagne flute. "She died," he murmured. "She died before all of this," he gestured around them absently, "swallowed me whole. So for that I am grateful."

Shalua, understanding what he meant, asked, "How did she die, Vincent?"

Vincent didn't look up, and made a fist with one hand. When he spoke his voice was broken and resigned. "She died giving birth to my son."

Shalua gasped, her hand going to her throat. "Oh, Vincent. I'm so sorry, I…" She looked around a moment, grasping. "Well, at least you still have your son?"

Vincent snorted again, and looked over Shalua. "He died a month later. I had one month to hold my son, to love him. He looked like her and he had my eyes. He was so very perfect." He looked back down at the ground.

Shalua tentatively placed her hand on Vincent's shoulder, and when the man didn't pull away she asked, "What were their names?"

"Lucrecia." Vincent's voice was hollow. "We fought over what we would name our child. She loved the name Aiden, and I wanted to name him after my father, Grimoire. She never liked that name." He laughed sadly, but when he looked up at Shalua his eyes were dry. "My son's name was Aiden."

"It's a good name, Vincent." Shalua said, rubbing his back slowly.

"Yes, it was…_is_." He sighed and stood up, draining his champagne and set the glass on the edge of the fountain. "But they are my past. A lot has changed since then. What about you, Shalua? Is there a 'Mr. Rui'? Sister? Brother? Mother? Father? I bored you with a little of my past, now it's your turn."

It was Shalua's turn to snort as she too rose to her feet. "You did no such thing, you jerk." She huffed. "I have a fiancé, back in Junon. My mother and father are both dead, but I have younger sister, Shelke. She'll be of age next year and is applying to the Academy here in Midgar. She has her heart set on it, but I'm afraid she won't make it."

Vincent frowned. "Why wouldn't she? If she's anything like you they'll fall all over themselves to admit her."

"She has no sponsor, and it's too expensive. We can't afford it." Shalua said sadly. "But she's still going to try. There is a slim hope that she could make it on grades alone, but…" she shook her head. "I'm not holding out hope, and I don't have the heart to tell her that."

Vincent stepped over to stand in front of Shalua. Looking down at her, he was struck once again at just how _much_ she reminded him of Lucrecia. "I shall sponsor her, and think nothing more of expenses. If going to the Academy is what she desires then how can I not help?"

Shalua gasped and took a step back as her hand once again flew to her throat. She shook her head furiously. "No! Vincent, we cannot accept that. We couldn't possibly pay that back, and the sponsor had to have gone to the Academy and…"

Vincent reached out and placed a hand gently over Shalua's mouth to silence her. "You talk too much, Ms. Rui." Vincent said wryly, and when Shalua's eyes narrowed in a glare he laughed softly and lowered his hand. "Ah-ah!" he said when she took in a deep breath to continue speaking. "That's better. This isn't a loan. This my wedding gift to you and your betrothed, the lucky bastard. And I _did_ go to the Academy, graduated top of my class actually. Besides, if they don't give me what I want I'll just threaten to kill their families." He began to snicker when Shalua's face paled, and when her mouth fell open he began to laugh. "Oh _do_ relax, Shalua! I'm only jesting! I may be a beast, but I'm not trivial or stupid!"

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Shalua said suspiciously. "I don't_know_ you. How do I know that you won't just show up on my doorstep two years from now and demand the money?"

Vincent sighed and sobered. "That's right, you _don't _know me. But you can ask _any_ of my associates, and any will tell you that I _am_ honest and when I give my word, I keep it. I wish to give this to you. Will you accept?"

Shalua eyes him a moment longer before nodding. "Yes. I will accept."

"Then you have made me a very happy man, Shalua," Vincent said, smiling warmly. "Now, shall we return inside? They're about to start the auction." He bowed slightly, once again offering his arm.

Shalua nodded again, but before she took Vincent's arm, she wrapped both of her own around the man in a fierce hug. Vincent for his part was at first startled, then he relaxed and wrapped his own around Shalua's soft, slender body, pulling her into him and relishing the feel of hers against his own. It felt so very good to be embraced. He buried his nose into her neck just behind her ear, the faint smell of her perfume tickling his nose and shivering down his spine to his crotch. If she were not promised to another, Vincent wouldn't hesitate to bed this woman. As it was, he clenched his teeth and reined in his libido to pull away from Shalua. "What was that for?" he asked softly.

Shalua smirked. "I wanted to. And I thought we could both use it." She took his arm. "Now shall we to the auction?" she asked, parroting his earlier words.

Vincent rolled his eyes, smiling broadly. "Indeed, my dear lady, let's."

Someone else, he noticed, had been following Vincent. This person also watched from a distance, hiding behind chunks of crowd and pieces of art. It didn't take him long to figure out that this other was watching Vincent for entirely different reasons.

_Shit, he's out t'get 'im. Y'asshole, y'can't hurt Vincent. Vincent's my friend!_ Cid stopped in his train of thought to ponder that he had thought of Vincent first as a friend and not a lifeline. In that moment, he decided that his job as joke cop was far less important than Vincent's safety, and that had nothing to do with cleaning up Midgar.

For the rest of the night, he subtly stuck to Vincent like glue, taking a seat immediately behind him when the auction started, and kept both eyes on the malevolent other watcher.

Said watcher, one Raven IV, no given name listed –Cid could remember admitting him- also remained close, and Cid could tell after a while that the other could sense his presence and his awareness.

Things could get dangerous from here, and Cid could only hope that Valentine, too, realized that he was being followed. He knew he would notice Cid, and with any luck, that would have also led to his discovery of the other, but Vincent seemed quite enamored with his date.

Cid prayed that it was an act, both for his selfish jealousy and for everyone's safety.

The other watcher didn't make his move until long after the speeches, after the dance, and after Valentine had exited the building. Another cop was on duty making sure that everyone leaving had been on the initial entry list or listed as a date (Cid had made note of dates' names and passed on the list), so Cid was free to leave as he chose.

He chose to follow a few feet behind Valentine. The other watcher had preceded them by about ten minutes, but Cid was certain that he was waiting outside. Sure enough, when they were out of earshot of the cop on exit duty, Cid caught sight again of Raven, moving closer in a decidedly stealthy fashion.

"Hey, Mr. Valentine! You dropped this!" Cid called, and charged at Vincent holding a pen in his hand. "Here ya go," he said, handing over the object.

"A pen? Highwind-"

"Ssh. I was tryin'a make him leave. You got Tseng nearby? I know y'musta noticed 'im by now, but he's been followin' ya all night, an' I…well. Uh, nice t'meetcha ma'am. Cid Highwind. Sorry 'bout the trouble earlier. That was just t'give Valentine a hard time." Against all better judgment, here he was, informing some unknown about their lack of enmity. "I'd appreciate if y'd keep this all quiet, Ms. Rui?"

Vincent frowned at the cop, taking the pen. What was Highwind talking about? Then he felt the eyes. His back stiffened. No, he had not felt them at all the whole night, and that worried him. Shalua was looking up at him worriedly, and he smiled gently down at her, placing himself between her and direction of danger. Just then he spotted Tseng and jerked his head at his second. As soon as Tseng arrived he said, "Please take Ms. Rui back to her hotel, and see that she gets there safely. There appears to be someone intent on starting something this evening."

"But sir, do not be stupid, you should-" Tseng started.

Vincent held up his hand, stopping Tseng. "Do not argue with me, Tseng. Not now. Just take Ms. Rui back."

"Fine," Tseng growled, "but I'm leaving Rude and Reno here with you, and I will _not_ argue about it."

Vincent grinned lopsidedly. "I expect nothing less."

Cid's chest still ached, a product of the intimacy he'd seen passing between Vincent and Rui, but he refused to let it get in his way. "What do…whaddaya want me t'do, Vincent? Stay outta yer way? I don't…I don't know what t'do anymore." He had remembered quite suddenly where he had heard the name "Raven" before, and the implications were intense. He couldn't worry Vincent with those potential problems now, though. "You just have to tell me, because I belong to you now."

Vincent's eyebrow rose as he turned to Cid while Shalua was being shepherded off by Tseng, and Reno and Rude made their way over to them. "What are you talking about, Highwind?"

Cid laughed humorlessly. "It's over for me, Vincent. Don't you see? They've been onta me since the beginnin', I reckon. I'll be lucky if they don't kill me too. But for now, we need t'take care o' this. We'll talk about the rest later."

"No I don't 'see', and you're absolutely right we'll 'take care of this'," Vincent said, grabbing Cid's shirt and dragging him close to his face. "Because I need to know what you screwed up. I have a lot riding on you, Mr. Highwind. More than you'll ever know." He gently pushed Cid away and turned to Rude and Reno. "There's someone here I'd like to have a little chat with. Apparently, thanks to Mr. Highwind here, I've found out that this 'someone' has been following me around all night. Be on your guard."

Rude nodded and frowned, while Reno's teal-colored eyes narrowed. "Then why didn't you go with Tseng, boss? Why did you stay behind?"

"Because I _want_ whomever it is that is following me, and if I left, he would too. To keep the hunter in pursuit, the prey needs to remain in sight and attainable. That, and Highwind and I have some unfinished business to discuss." He turned to Rude. "Mr. Rude, you're going on your own little hunt; enjoy yourself." Rude nodded, scowling fiercely before moving off into the crowd and disappearing.

"Aw, man! How come Rude gets to have all the fun?" Reno whined, then winced as Vincent turned toward him.

"Because that is what Rude does, Reno, and does well I might add. I need _you_ to get the surveillance tapes from tonight. I don't care how, just get them. And that is what _you_ do well, now go."

Reno nodded and moved off in the opposite direction. Turning back to Cid he said, "Do you remember their face well enough to pick them out off of a tape, Mr. Highwind?"

"Yeah," Cid sighed. "I do. More or less know who it is an' who he's affiliated with. As fer what I screwed up, I don't see as I screwed up anything 'til I told yer sorry ass you was bein' followed. If I'd let 'im kill ya, it'd still all be just fine, but we wouldn't hardly be much use to each other, would we!" Cid was so tired of Midgar. In Midgar, everything was always his fault. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm not upset with you. I'll calm down." And, as was predictable, he always found at least one way to make everything worse.

"Never mind that," Vincent said taking Cid's elbow, and steering him in the direction of an empty hallway he'd seen upon leaving. He kept Cid in front of him, and stopped the man when he came across an unlocked door. Looking around for any prying eyes and seeing none, he gently shoved Cid in first and closed the door behind them. Turning toward the tired-looking cop he crossed his arms over his chest and said sternly. "Now I think you need to explain to me what you meant by 'they've been on to me'."

"Well, I don't know fer sure if they have been, but it's a good guess. Dunno what woulda tipped 'em off…" Cid swallowed. "I remember that guy. He, uh, he does business with Scarlet. I hate to assume, but…I think it's her sendin' 'im after ya." Cid pulled off his glasses and brought a hand up to rub his temple, unable to look at Vincent. "An' however it happened, I'm sure I'm t'blame for it."

Vincent snorted in irritation. "Unlikely." He began to pace, mind churning as he tried to come up with a reason _Scarlet_ would want him eliminated, and coming up, frighteningly, with nothing. "Chances are she and Rufus have been corresponding for quite some time. Scarlet most likely just saw you as a possible distraction." He paused and looked over his shoulder at Highwind. "Unless of course you _are _working for her." He turned to face the cop, pinning the man with a hostile stare. "And all the records I have on you were an elaborate set-up. What does Scarlet want with me?" A lot was riding on just _how_ Highwind answered this question.

"If I- what? No. Shit, Vincent, I wouldn't do that to you. I couldn't. I told you I belong to you, an' I meant that. I gave my word that I wouldn't betray you, an' I meant that too. But if she's set Raven on ya…usually how that works is that he follows ya fer a while to get you all paranoid, stays away in hopes you'll drop your guard thinkin' he forgot about you or isn't after you anymore, an' then strikes once he's been away a while. So she either wants you on edge so you'll see somethin'…but I don't know what that'd be…or she wants you dead, but I don't know why." Cid slumped against the wall and sank to the ground, staring wearily up at Vincent. "I really am nothin' but a fool. I never have been. If the records you have of me say that, then they're exactly right. If not, then I don't have a clue where th'hell you got your information."

Vincent snorted and turned away from where Cid sat against the wall, bringing his hand up to rub his temples. Finally he winced and sighed, reaching both hands up to undo his tie, then unbuttoned his coat and removed everything under it until he was dressed only in his dress shirt, pants and dress shoes. He draped the lot of it over a chair and walked over to slide down the wall and join Cid on the floor. He leaned his head back and closed his suddenly gritty eyes. "I do not know why, but against my better judgment, I am going to believe you, Highwind."

"That's 'cause I'm tellin' the truth, Valentine. It's as simple as that. Man like you c'n tell the difference, an' that's a damn good thing fer a guy like me." Cid sighed heavily and let his head fall onto his knees. "If there's as much ridin' on me as you say…help me make sure I don't screw it up for ya. This isn't fer me anymore. I couldn't care less about climbin' the ranks fer m'self anymore, but if you need me t'do that, I will." He looked up earnestly at Vincent. "All you hafta do is tell me what t'do an' keep me alive while I do it."

Vincent sighed; now was not the time to discuss such things. He needed to speak with Tseng, get the man's opinion because things just got a whole lot more complicated. But what he needed most was to get the hell out of here and to a safer place. Just then, his PHS rang. Grunting, he stood up and returned to his coat. Locating the phone he pulled it out and flipped it open. It was Rude. "What did you find?"

"Nothing, the man's gone. I looked everywhere," Rude's deep voice came back over the line.

"Dammit," he muttered. "Well, then meet us at the front of the building, Tseng should be returning soon. I'll have Reno meet me here and we'll join you."

"Understood." And the line went dead only to immediately ring again with Reno checking in.

"Where _are _ya boss?"

"Not entirely sure," Vincent said wryly looking around. "Ducked in here with the cop. Look, you remember that hallway just to your right as you entered?"

"Uh-huh," Reno grunted.

"We're down that, in a room off it. We'll meet you in the hallway." Vincent said and snapped the phone shut. He picked up his discarded clothing, slipped his jacket back on and turned to Highwind. "Time to go. I assume you have a ride, because it would not be a good idea for you to be seen you leaving with me." At the cop's nod, he continued. "Here's what you're going to do. Play nice, do what you're told. I cannot afford to have even more attention drawn to me. Practice your investigative skills and make discrete inquires after this 'Raven' and why Scarlet wants him tailing me." He reached for the door. "And I'll have my men do the same, but we shall be quite a bit more restricted." He cracked the door and saw Reno's concerned face. The redhead looked up and down the hallway and nodded his head. Vincent looked back over his shoulder at the cop. "Give me ten minutes, _then_ leave." He opened the door and began to walk out only to pause. "Oh, and Highwind?" He looked back over his shoulder. "Thanks for the warning."


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry for the delay! I took a vacation to visit my co-author for this...naturally we were entirely unproductive the entire week, to the point of missing an update. But it's here now!

Thanks to all who've reviewed; I used to be so good about responding to each review. Don't know what happened to that...just know that we appreciate every word you leave us ^^

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"Have lunch with me."

"Oh! Cid, I-"

"I know. I know y're busy an' important an' don't hardly have time t'breathe. But I really need-"

"What you _need_," Lazard scolded, "is to shut up and let me finish talking."

Cid blinked at the phone. Few people bothered anymore to tell him off about talking too much or talking over them. Made obedient by the unexpected reprimand, he answered simply, "'kay."

"Good. Now, what I was going to say was this:" -here Lazard paused to clear his throat and affect all the theatrics necessary to pretend he had only just answered the phone- "Cid! I was just about to call you! I wanted to talk with you. I've made reservations at _Rockin' in Midgar_; will you join me at dinner tomorrow afternoon?"

"Oh," Cid said stupidly, looking at the phone again in an attempt to show Lazard his confused face. "Well, it's a good thing you didn't call me. I ain't livin' there no more. S'part o' the reason I called."

"You're not? What happened? And where are you, then?"

"M'stayin' at Shera's fer the time bein', but I don't wanna impose much longer, y'know, what with ever'thin' goin' on. As fer what happened…well, it's a long story, an' I reckon I'll explain it to ya t'morra. Only, uh, y'sure y'wanna go there? It's a little nice fer me."

"You promised I could pick the place next time, remember?"

"Yeah, but y'can't go inta there wearin' jeans an' a scruffy ol' coat like what I got." _Rockin' in Midgar_was not the most upstanding of places, but the guests were expected to dress formally and behave appropriately. The waitresses –called "Rockettes" as a team and each given a bubbly, cutesy nickname- dressed scantily but not tastelessly, and were meant only to entice. Cid, of course, had very little interest in women, but he kept up the persona in public for Lazard's sake.

"Didn't you have to rent a suit for that job at the gala a few days ago?"

"Uh…yeah, I did, but we'll talk about that later." Clumsily evading the question, or perhaps only postponing it, Cid directed the chatter elsewhere. "So you'll pick me up from here?" he asked uncomfortably, wishing he had the willpower to decline Lazard's invitation.

"Of course. What about that nice trench coat I got you for your birthday last year?"

Cid had to pause a moment to recall exactly what _had_ happened to that. "Vincent," he muttered.

"What?"

"Uh, just one more thing we get t'talk about later. I got a button-up an' a tie an' some slacks I c'n prob'ly get together by then." He had already started the search for them.

"Good! Then I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure thing."

"Goodnight, Cid."

"'night."

Cid opened the door for Lazard when he arrived. "Shera'n'Johnny wanna see ya b'fore we go."

"Oh?"

"They miss ya. Well, Sher does. Johnny don't give a fuck. C'mon in."

Lazard didn't even bother to remove his coat, just stepped inside and followed Cid to where Shera, now _almost_ obviously pregnant, was sitting and waiting for him. "Don't get up!" he chastised as she made to stand to approach him. "How have you been?" he asked, smiling as he eyed the roundness her hands rested on.

"Oh, you know. I'm almost used to it now. Or I think I am, but then something happens that surprises me. It usually isn't good, either," she laughed, happiness showing clearly in her face. "I just wanted to see you. We haven't in a long time, you know."

"I know. I often wish things were different," Lazard admitted.

"I don't," Shera whispered, then caught sight of Cid's conflicted face. "You boys go on. Have fun, but behave. I don't like the idea of that place, you know. I told Cid."

"She sure as hell did," Cid grouched, rubbing the place on the back of his neck she had smacked when he told her where they were going to dinner.

"Honestly, Shera, we're going for the food!" Lazard insisted as they ducked out the door, laughing at the expression on her face.

After a short ride, a surprisingly bouncy Lazard and an incredibly uncomfortable Cid walked into the restaurant. Lazard had to spell out "Deusericus" for the waitress to decide whether he had reservations, but after that, the service was excellent and the meals came quickly.

"So," Cid said around a mouthful of burger, "you asked me here. What happened?"

Lazard, more well-mannered, swallowed what he was chewing before answering, "I'm going to marry."

Cid kept looking, waiting for the rest of the statement. "Marry who?"

"Cid, you've met Elfé."

"Yeah. Oh! Hey, congratulations! Y'asked 'er?"

"Not officially, but we've discussed it before and I'm certain she'll agree."

Cid's own misery was lessened in the face of Lazard's happiness, and he was glad for that; it reminded him that he was still human and not entirely selfish. "That's great, y'know! Hell, I'm so happy for ya I might hafta buy you a drink."

"There are more important things to discuss," Lazard said, pointing at the fading bruises on Cid's face and neck. "I didn't want to mention them in front of Shera, but you know I'm curious. I assume they're related to your eviction and the loss of the coat and suit?"

"Well…parts o' that 're right. Let's start back at th'beginnin'." Cid sighed and launched into the story. "I was workin' the gala, y'know that. Valentine was there, an'…somebody was followin' 'im. I…well, I better explain the other part first.

Another sigh, this one much heavier, accompanied his closed eyes as he allowed himself to admit what he'd been considering. "I think I'm fallin' for 'im. I tried t'fight it fer a long time…a _long_ time, but it ended up happenin' anyway. I hate m'self for it a little, but I can't do nothin' about it." This sentence was punctuated with Cid's usual gestures that accompanied being overwhelmed. "Anyway, so I was payin' extra close attention to 'im. Somebody was followin' 'im, an' I tipped 'im off 'cause I figured they didn't want no murder at the ball, right?

"Wrong. Turns out it was Scarlet what had set the guy on 'im, an' I fucked everything up by lettin' 'im know. Also let Scarlet know that I've developed some kinda relationship with Valentine. I managed t'convince 'er after a little while that I was on her side, just gettin' as close to 'im as possible. She ain't that bright, y'know? Anyway, I was still wearin' the suit when they roughed me up, so that ain't no good t'nobody."

Another sigh started the conclusion of the story. "So she took away everything I had, pretty much –docked m'wages, kicked me outta th'place, etcet'ra. Guess she figured Valentine'd ask me t'move in with him or somethin', but I wouldn't let 'im do that. So I'm stayin' with Shera," Cid sighed, "an' feelin' like th'moochinest asshole ever lived while I do it."

Lazard, a stickler for details, had one other question before he would comment on Cid's confessions. "So you were wearing the coat over the suit?"

"Nah," Cid said, smiling for the first time between hearing Lazard's good news and delivering his own less good news. "Vincent's got m'coat. I told 'im keep it as long as he wanted it, an' he ain't brought it back yet." His voice was warm, as was his world every time he thought too long about Vincent lately. "I really care about him, y'know?"

"And I know what it takes for a man like you to admit that, even to me. Does he know?"

Cid shrugged. "I ain't told 'im. Don't think I'm goin' to. He don't need any o' that right now. I c'n live without, y'know? As long as I'm close to 'im, an' as long as no one's usin' 'im like ShinRa was, I'll be okay."

"You do care. Cid, he needs to know."

"No. It ain't my place t'care about 'im like that."

"Says who?"

Cid shrugged again and shifted his eyes away from Lazard, who smiled back.

"See? There's no reason to hide it."

"He might kill me."

"I doubt that very much." Cid had the unique ability to exasperate people quickly. Lazard sometimes pitied him for that, and sometimes envied him.

"He doesn't trust me, an' he doesn't have any reason to. I don't know th'last time someone he did business with was good to 'im. He's just been used so much, an' I'm not willin' t'let him think I'm the same way."

And, through years of learning, Lazard had honed the perfect counter to that ability of Cid's. Rhetorical questions made for weak argument, but to a man like Cid, they were starting points for seriously deep thought. Manipulative, maybe, but effective. "He knows you're not. Trust him to accept you. How can you care so deeply for him if you don't trust him? And why would you expect him to trust you?"

"Do you know that I hate you sometimes fer bein' able t'talk me inta stuff?"

"I'm sorry. Rephrase that; I'm not sorry at all. Cid, I have a proposition for you."

Cid replaced his glasses and let his eyes meet Lazard's again. "An' what's that?"

"I'll pay your rent for a place for as long as you need it, but you have to promise that you'll tell him what you're feeling." Lazard rested his chin on his hands and stared smugly at Cid, knowing what a difficult choice it would be. Make things easier for Shera, or more difficult for himself? "Take the chance, Cid. Shake on it."

First reluctantly, and then boldly, Cid extended his hand and shook.

Two days later, his small collection of belongings had been moved to his new place. It was nicer and in a better location than his old apartment, and still close enough to walk to work. Cid felt guilty allowing Lazard to pay for it, but he couldn't keep living off Shera. There was only one thing left to do: Call Valentine. He would be most unhappy, Cid figured, if he tried to visit this Friday and found that Cid no longer lived in No. 30upside-down-2.

And across Midgar, in the ShinRa Tower, Vincent frowned as his PHS rang abruptly. Very few knew his number and the fact that he knew where all four of his men were at this moment made this call rather disconcerting. He set his pen down and reached around to dig in his suit-coat pocket until he found the small phone. His frown deepened when he didn't recognize the number. He flipped it open and said abruptly, "Valentine."

"Um. Vincent. Cid." Cid felt incredibly unintelligent quite suddenly, and as he struggled to gain hold of the conversation, he realized that Vincent had never referred to him as "Cid" before. "Uh, Highwind, that is. I just…well, I know we're s'posed'a meet Friday, right? Had, uh, a change of address. Wouldn't do for ya t'show up at the wrong place, right?"

Vincent's frown turned into a scowl as he leaned back in his chair. "A change of address? Care to explain to me what happened to warrant this?"

"Got kicked outta my old place," Cid admitted unhappily.

"'Kicked out of your old place.'" Vincent repeated in a mixture of irritation and incredulity. Now he would have to pull Verdot. Vincent ground his teeth, suddenly wanting very much to throttle Highwind. "What caused this?" he asked levelly, his voice soft and carefully measured.

"Savin' yer ass," _Cid retorted. "I was supposed t'let you die, apparently. She was tryin'a get me closer to ya, I guess, thinkin' you'd ask me t'stay with you. Stupid woman still thinks I'm on her side. Me, I'm s'prised I still have m'job." _

A tick began to work in Vincent's jaw. "'Saving my ass', this is getting redundant, Mr. Highwind." He leaned forward onto his elbows on his desk. Something about what the cop had said, had caused warning bells to go off in his brain. "You shall have to do better than that if you want me to believe you." Then he pinpointed it. Highwind had contradicted himself...in a big way. "You are not making sense, which leads me to conclude that you _do_ know what is going on, and if I may be blunt: I am surprised that you still have your life." His voice dropped deeper with a warning. "It is out of respect for our arrangements that I tell you this, but I do not enjoy being played with, Mr. Highwind."

"I'm not _playin'_ with ya, dammit, I'm tellin' ya what I know an' doin' what I can t'make sure nothin' goes wrong! I told ya when it happened I'd be s'prised if I lived through it, an' I was right. Scarlet had a hit out on ya, I interfered just 'cause that's what I do, an' now she's tryin'a get me t'use ya…an' I don't expect ya t'trust me, 'cause I gotta be doin' one o' y'all wrong. I'll promise you again that _it is not you_, but I know it don't mean much." Cid sighed. "I don't know how t'make you understand, but I ain't gonna give up tryin'."

Vincent ground his teeth and rubbed his temples with his free hand. This whole arrangement with Highwind was volatile at best. So why did he continue it? _Because it's better than the alternative, _he thought morosely. Still, he would have to proceed with caution. Clearly Highwind was compromised. "Be that as it may, if we are to continue meeting as arranged, I think we shall need a new location."

"Oh…well, all right. Up t'you, then. You prob'ly got a better grasp on what's safe an' what ain't. Or, well, the least unsafe o' the unsafe places, right? Just let me know, an' I'll find a way there."

Vincent sighed loudly. "No need. I shall have Tseng retrieve you on Friday."

_Cid hesitated. "I don't really know that I'm okay with-" He stopped and sighed, remembering all his promises to various parties that he would trust Vincent. "All right. I'll be ready." He rattled off the new address. "Got that?"_

Vincent jotted the new address down quickly on a scrap of paper. "Mm." Vincent grunted in affirmation. "I am familiar with this location. It is considerably closer to the upper plates. Whose residence is this?" He was curious to see if Highwind would tell him or not. If the cop was indeed _his_, he would answer appropriately.

"Yeah, it's- it's a lot nicer. Not payin' for it m'self o' course." _Ah, shit, I don't know if this is what 'e meant when 'e said t'trust 'im…an' stop dodgin' questions. He already knows that._ "An old friend o' mine's got me set up here. I owe him a lot, an' I care about 'im a lot…" _But I'm very quickly startin'a care about you more_. "I shouldn't bring him inta this…" Cid swallowed. If anything happened, Lazard was responsible for it, after all. "Lazard Deusericus, in charge o' sector four in the upper plates. You'll…leave 'im out of it, right? I've been meanin' t'have y'all both over one Friday, but he's just as busy as you are an' he don't hardly have th'time." _Dammit. I oughta take better care o' my friends…an' I wonder why I don't have any. Sheesh._

Vincent's eyes widened, then narrowed as he recognized the name. "Deusericus. The DA? He's your _friend_?" He couldn't hide the disbelief in his voice. This was an unexpected boon. Deusericus was one of the only "straight" DAs left. And he was good. His success rate was indeed very impressive. If he could get Deusericus in his pocket… Vincent liked challenges.

"Yes, he is, and he's the only one I'm as loyal to as I am t'you, an' he returns the favor. He knows what I'm doin' with you to some extent, an' he supports it. I really would appreciate it if he doesn't get hurt because of all this." Cid regretted answering honestly for a moment, and he could not see anything good coming out of this next Friday, the days he usually looked forward to so much. "I'll see you Friday?"

Vincent stilled instantly. "You have spoken to someone about our arrangements?" He felt a familiar rage begin to boil. Again he spoke carefully. "Mr. Highwind, to be honest, when you spoke of your stupidity, I confess that I did not entirely take you seriously. But now I see that you were in no way jesting. Do you have any idea what you have just done?"

"Yes, I do," Cid said, sighing as he accidentally knocked his glasses from his face onto the floor. "You'll notice I said 'to an extent.' Where, Mr. Valentine, do you think I got my information in the first place?"

Vincent was not satisfied...in the least. "I'm watching you, Mr. Highwind. I'll let this go, for now. But fair warning: watch your step." And terminated the call.

Cid hung up the phone and promptly fell across his bed, exhausted. _I don't know how to make you understand…but I do know that I just brought us backwards a few steps, me an' my stupid-ass mouth._

After he ended the call, Vincent tapped his finger on his desk and frowned, then leaned forward and hit his intercom button. Tseng immediately answered. "I need to see you if you have a moment, please."

"Yes, sir."

A moment later Tseng knocked once and entered, shutting the door behind him. The tall Wutaian walked over to take a seat in one of the chairs across from Vincent and crossed his legs and arms. His friend looked concerned…and irritated. Never a good combination, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what might have put that expression on Vincent's face. "Let me hazard a guess…Highwind?"

"Mm," Vincent grunted and leaned back in his chair. He was silent a moment, gazing unseeingly at the surface of his desk before looking up to meet his second's black eyes. "I don't like this." He shook his head. "I don't like this at all, this…arrangement." He stood up then, and moved to stand in front of the tall windows, arms crossed over his chest and finger tapping his bicep agitatedly. He shook his head again. "The cop is too unstable, his position too precarious. The man cannot filter what comes out of his mouth. Did you know that he got, to use his own words, 'kicked outta my old place'? And when I questioned him regarding that he made reference to Scarlet wanting me eliminated, then that she wanted him closer to me." He looked back over his shoulder at Tseng who was glowering dangerously.

"That _is_ troublesome, sir." Tseng said quietly. "What did you say to that?"

"I called him on it of course." Vincent came back over to sit on the edge of his desk. "And he just rattled off more bullshit about not 'betraying' me and throwing the word 'trust' around with alarming familiarity." He stood up then and began to pace, gesticulating absently. "I do not understand, Tseng. His position in the force, even with our most generous help, has not improved; in fact it seems to have gotten worse. Now he's telling me that he doesn't even _want_ the position, but that he'd do it if I wanted him to. He is _offering_ himself up to be a puppet. He stands to gain nothing from this arrangement, and to lose _everything_ from it if he is discovered."

Tseng sighed and uncrossed his arms to rest them on the armrests of the chair. "Vincent, sit down. You're making me nervous." When his friend complied with a huff and turned an agitated red glare onto him, he asked, "Have you asked Highwind what he wants?"

"Yes!" Vincent said in exasperation. "Several times! In several different ways!" He caught himself and rubbed his eyes as he made himself calm down. "And always the answer is the same. There _has_ to be something there, Tseng, but what is it? No one is _that_ charitable, especially given the danger level of just what he is doing. I mean, I find it extremely difficult to believe that he is working for Scarlet what with the way she's been treating him. It would be a hell of a charade, and given what I've seen and what we know about the man's history…" Vincent snorted. "I'd have an easier time being convinced of ShinRa's running for the presidency of Midgar." _Unless he is working for Deusericus…_Vincent thought darkly, but he would save that consideration for later, when he knew more.

"I agree, there is considerably more risk involved with the arrangements that you have with him. But I still think Highwind is a better source than ShinRa."

"Unfortunately I am in agreement with you. Oh, and get this." Vincent cocked his head at Tseng. "Apparently he knows Lazard Deusericus, on a level to which the DA is putting him up in a new apartment. He says that they are "friends". And given the man's ridiculous inability to lie with any conviction, I have to believe him."

"_Deusericus_?" Tseng said in mild disbelief. "So this problem has a little silver lining after all. Vincent, if we could get Deusericus in our pocket…"

"I know," Vincent murmured. "Because I want Deusericus, I shall continue to play Highwind's little game. I'll just have to be very, very careful. And that brings me to this: on Friday, I need you to pick up Highwind. We've moved the meeting location." He leaned over his desk, and handed Tseng the scrap of paper with the new address on it.

Tseng nodded as he took the paper and studied it, frowning. "Understood. Where do you want me to bring him?"

"My penthouse. It's private, and only you four know about it," Vincent replied.

Tseng nodded again. "Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes, thank you," Vincent said, feeling a little bit better. Better enough anyway to continue with what he had been working on. But when Tseng opened the door he jerked his head up. "Oh, and Tseng?"

His second looked back over his shoulder. "I'll see what I can find out, sir."

Vincent nodded and smiled slightly. Really, he didn't know what he would do without his friend.


	12. Chapter 12

**Yes, it's a tiny chapter. We know. **Sorry, guys! That was the best place to cut it. We also missed last week's update because we were trying to figure out how to fix the tiny chapter issue. The answer? We'll update again tomorrow and again Friday, so you'll be all caught up and with the appropriate number of pages.

* * *

Cid had just finished combing his hair –and really, it looked better when he just left it alone- when the doorbell rang. Thrilled all over again at the prospect of having a working doorbell, Cid hurried to open the door for Tseng. "Hey! You wanna come in fer a while, or we ready t'go? An' speakin' o' that, where are we goin'? You gonna have dinner with us?" Before Tseng could answer, Cid's eyes widened as he realized that he had almost forgotten the mako. He tipped both tubes carefully into the inside pocket of his jacket and returned to the doorway. "Sorry. Almost fergot why I was goin', is all."

Tseng blinked at Highwind's enthusiasm and rapid-fire questions. He was beginning to see how Vincent could get a headache from this man. He bowed slightly and said, holding his arm out for Cid to precede him. "I am ready to leave if you are, sir. And no, I shall not be joining you for 'dinner' as this arrangement was made between you and Mr. Valentine. Now, shall we?"

"S'too bad. You ought to sometime." Cid stepped past Tseng, double-checking the lights and his keys, and waited for Tseng to pass him again to make sure the door was locked. He followed Tseng to the sedan, where he clambered clumsily into the same seat he always occupied. "Big guy ain't here t'day, huh? He all right?"

Tseng grunted and after shutting the door after the cop, walked around to the driver's seat, checked the traffic, and pulled away from the curb. "He is well, sir."

"Good. And you?" Staring at his idly tapping feet, Cid found himself once again wondering how Tseng could intimidate him so easily while still making him feel like everything would end well.

Tseng sighed inaudibly, checked traffic again and pulled out into the heavier flow of vehicles. "I am doing well, sir."

"Glad t'hear it." And now to the real point of conversation. "Is Vincent- Mr. Valentine, I mean, is 'e still upset with me? I c'n see as how 'e would be, but…"

"I'm sure I do not know what you mean, sir." Tseng replied guardedly, eyeing the cop in the rearview mirror.

"Ain't no need t'act like that. I know he tells you most everything, an' I know you read 'im better'n anyone. He wouldn't hafta say it for ya t'know about it," Cid grumped, a bit put out that no one was ever as honest with him as he was with them. He met Tseng's reflection's eyes and held them, asking seriously, "You ain't bringin' me t'be killed are ya?"

"No, sir." Tseng replied with a nearly imperceptible quirking of the lips. "You may rest easy in that regard."

"'kay," Cid said uneasily, wanting to believe but not quite able to. After a few moments of complete silence, Cid started again. "Hey, uh, Mr. …or, uh…aw, hell, there ain't nobody else in th'car. You know who I'm talkin' to." Cid shifted uncomfortably in his seat again, knowing that if anyone would understand his growing feelings for Vincent, it would be Tseng. He couldn't quite figure out, though, how much he wanted to say, if anything.

"Yes, Mr. Highwind?" Tseng said patiently, switching lanes again, the oncoming headlights and building lights flashing across their faces.

"Whaddaya s'pose he…d'ya think he hates me?" Cid asked quietly, anxiously anticipating the answer. He almost hoped for an affirmative so he could lay this all to rest and just focus on what needed to be done, but he quickly regretted the thought.

Tseng carefully considered the question and his subsequent answer. Finally he said carefully. "I do not believe he hates you, sir. Rather I believe he does not know what to make of you."

Cid nodded once slowly, then twice more, quickly. "How do I make 'im see that I'm not gonna- shit, you remember. I promised you, an' I'm gonna hold to it, but he don't believe me. How do I make 'im understand?" he asked, questions directed more to himself than to Tseng. "An' I…well, I don't hate him," he finished quietly, head hanging and a small smile on his face.

"The only answer I have for you is time, Mr. Highwind." Tseng said softly, merging with another lane of traffic. Then he said, "Nothing in our world is free. You must understand. If Vincent trusted everyone like you wish him to trust you so blindly, then he would not be alive." There was an uneasy silence before he finished with, "My advice to you, sir, is to be up front with him. If you require something from him, then inform him of it."

"I don't 'require' anything," Cid said softly, looking back up. "I just wish he didn't hafta hurt so much. It…I wish …well, wishin' never does a fella any good. He's gotta go out an' get what 'e wants, right? Only what I want is somethin' y'can't just take." The last part was mumbled; he considered the words carefully as if hearing and understanding them for the first time. "Do you think there's a chance he could ever come t'care about me? Not as a business asset or a favorite client, but more like the way he cares 'bout you?" _If there ain't, I'll give up on it now. …Can I give up on it? On him? I don't think I can._

Tseng's eyes shot up to look at Cid's face in the rearview mirror again. Even in the dark car he could tell that the man's face was red. _So that's it_, Tseng thought. "You wish his friendship then?" he asked carefully.

"I do," Cid answered, meticulously thinking over the rest before he said it, "an' more than that if th'time ever comes that he's willin' t'give it. But I could never…never, _ever _just take his body. He's too good fer that, an' I'm too far gone. I don't know if you c'n understand. I respect him, and I've grown t'care about 'im a lot, an'…the man he hides is a man I could love fer the rest o' my life, if he'd only let me. Is it possible t'gain that much trust from him?"

A cold knot formed in Tseng's belly at the cop's words. "It is not my place to tell you what Vincent feels or is capable of or will _allow_ himself to feel. He fiercely protects the man you _think_ you know, Mr. Highwind. I have known him the better part of twenty years, and I do not think I _know_ him in the sense that you are referring, he guards himself that well." Tseng fell quiet, alarmed at what Highwind was wanting. "There was only one other who held his heart in such a manner that you are seeking now. What you do is your business, but I want you to think very carefully about what you are asking of him."

"I'm not askin' anything of 'im. Dontcha see? I never will. He'll hafta come t'me. An' even if he never sees, or never responds, I'll go on lovin' 'im the way I'm afraid I'm startin' to already." Even though the response had not been as favorable as Cid had hoped, he did not wish that he had not spoken. Tseng would protect Vincent to the very end, he knew, and if he were to have any hope of getting closer to Vincent, he would have to be on good terms with Tseng. "The other…Lucrecia?" He knew he had no right to ask, especially since he already knew the answer –or was fairly certain he did- but he wanted to hear it confirmed. "I'm nothin' like her, am I?" he asked flatly.

"Oh, but you are, Mr. Highwind." Tseng said ominously, addressing the first of the cop's questions. "You're asking for far more from him than just his body. You're asking for the very way to utterly destroy him." He signaled and began to slow as he approached an extremely wealthy part of the plate. He understood now what Vincent had said about the cop's inability to keep his mouth shut, and he ground his teeth at the flippant way the man spoke of Vincent's late wife. He would not acknowledge such disrespect. Instead he said, "He will never come to you, Mr. Highwind. If you are certain that you wish to pursue this, then you will have to go to him. But I give you a fair warning, because you _appear_ genuine in your intentions. If you use him, hurt him…I will rip out your heart myself."

"I hope you will. I'll deserve it if I ever hurt 'im." He couldn't be bothered now to look around, but if had, he would have been awed at the difference between this place and his own. He had only come near this area once, and he had not stayed long. "I don't ever know what the right thing t'do is when it comes t'him, but I c'n assure ya that my intentions are genuine. But I know better'n any other man that intentions ain't worth a damn in the end. One more question, though. If you thought I c'd make 'im happy, would ya help me? Y'said yerself I don't know nothin' about 'im, an' that's exactly right. There's some things don't come up in every conversation, an' I might need you t'fill in th'blanks sometimes."

Tseng pulled up in front of the largest apartment building, put the car in part and got out to walk around and open the door for the cop. When Highwind was standing, Tseng appraised him silently, unblinking. "We shall see, sir." He said, then turned and indicated the cop was to go on alone. "At the end of the lobby you will find a bank of elevators, the one furthest to the right as you face them, is his. He owns the entire top floor, and he is expecting you."


	13. Chapter 13

As promised, post 2 of this week's 3. Here's hoping this makes up for yesterday's super-short chapter!

* * *

Everything seemed to be in order as Vincent got up from lighting a fire in the large black marble fireplace. He was in the mood for one and it seemed, somehow fitting given his thoughts and the situation. Walking back into the modern black glass, marble, and chrome kitchen, he checked on the elaborate pasta dish he had cooking to make sure it still looked like it should, breathing in the delicious aroma. He figured it was his turn to 'cook' and already had the bread baked and salad prepared. Tonight he figured he would get some answers from the cop, one way or another, as he was getting tired of living in paranoia. Rolling up the sleeves on his deep crimson silk shirt, he picked up his wine glass – it wasn't the good stuff, he figured he'd wait for his company before he popped the cork on the Mideel Red – and ambled over to the large wall of windows that looked out over the brightly lit city of Midgar to await his guest's arrival.

"First one on the –no,no. Last one on th'right? Furthest t'the right. That's it," Cid muttered to himself, smoothing his suit as he walked to the last elevator. "Owns th'whole top floor…damn rich boy ijit…dammit, Highwind, watch yer mouth…" Cid had a well-known habit of babbling when he was angry, humiliated, exhausted, nervous, happy, or to distract himself from any of the above and much more. Babbling often led to speaking without thinking, and he knew he could not do that in front of Vincent no matter what. When the "ding" and the slight shake of the elevator informed him that he had reached his destination, he stepped out cautiously and looked around, eyes widening at the spacious foyer and ornate doors. He doubted they were in Vincent's taste; other than the built-in decorations, the walls were bare and bland. One could assume that Vincent did not spend much time here. "Vincent?" he called, not seeing or hearing his host anywhere.

Fortunately Vincent's hearing was well above normal, a byproduct of his past and he heard the muffled call of his name through the 'front doors.' Arching a brow he walked through the living room and to said doors. He opened the right one and leaned against a narrow hip, sipping his wine, the other hand shoved into the pocket of his black slacks, as he watched the cop peering at one of the very few paintings he had hung on the wall above a narrow delicate table affixed with fake flowers. The man's expression was one of distaste and he doubted very much that Highwind even knew that he made that face. "Something not to your taste, Mr. Highwind?" he asked mildly, taking another sip of his wine.

"Hey, there you are! Nah, I was just thinkin' y'don't spend too much time here. It don't feel…lived in, not at all. Shame. Real nice place," he said, grinning his compliment. "So…can I come in, or didja just wanna show off the front here?"

Vincent snorted and stepped away from the entrance, gesturing with his wine glass. "By all means, won't you please come in? But only after you have finished scrutinizing my home," he said wryly. "I wouldn't want to rush you."

"Defensive, aintcha? Yeesh. I'll just keep my mouth good an' shut, then," Cid said huffily, crossing his arms as he walked past Vincent into the next room. He couldn't keep himself, though, from turning back and grinning as he pulled out the mako and held it out to Vincent. "I…thanks fer invitin' me here, I guess."

Frowning, Vincent eyed the mako. "The agreement was for one tube of mako, this is two," he said suspiciously. This was an unexpected turn of events, and it made him nervous.

"I don't remember specifyin'. I just was thinkin'… Sher's gonna be out a couple months when th'time comes, an' like I said, I c'n get someone else in if I need to, but…I thought maybe it'd be better t'stock up just in case." Cid didn't like the distrustful look Vincent was giving him, but he was slowly getting used to it.

"And what do I owe for this…generosity?" Vincent asked softly, reaching out to slip the mako from Highwind's loose grip. He then walked over and slipped the mako into the inside pocket of his suit coat. If he were in his office he could handle this, or even at a restaurant, but here in his home, on his turf, he found himself uncertain and very nearly afraid. He kept his back to the cop so that the man didn't see his expression, which he was sure was not a pleasant one.

"Owe? Ah, Vincent, y'don't-" Cid couldn't understand why Vincent continued to think the way he did. He was going to stand firm in his decision not to ask for anything, but he remembered Tseng's words: "_He will never come to you." _Instead, he heaved a sigh. "I- fine. I'll put a price on it. How 'bout a kiss?"

"I…" Vincent was a little shocked at such a simple request. He looked over his shoulder at the defeated man. "A…kiss?" Sighing in resignation, Vincent turned around and slowly approached the cop. He looked down into Highwind's mournful eyes a moment before murmuring, "Acceptable." He then placed both of his hands to either side of the blond's face gently, and lowered his lips to Cid's. At first it was just a light brush of contact. Cid's lips were dry, but soft and he nuzzled them a little more before slanting his own and pressing down more firmly. His eyelids fluttered briefly before finally falling shut and his tongue came out to hesitantly slide along the seam of Highwind's mouth until the cop's lips parted and accepted his advance, at which point Vincent promptly deepened the kiss. He thrust forward with his tongue, sliding his own against Cid's and feeling an answering tingle of awareness zing throughout his body and he shivered. Slowly the cop began to return the kiss, pressing back and seeking with his own tongue until Vincent was very nearly dizzy. Finally he ended it and pulled back, but kept his mouth just over Cid's, and his hands in place on the man's face. "Was that sufficient?" he breathed.

Cid nodded, wanting more with every fiber of his being but forcing himself to resist. "It was perfect," he breathed back, memorizing the feel of the hands on his face and nuzzling against one even as he remembered how cruel these hands could be. "Just exactly perfect." Vincent's mouth was still within reach of his, but Cid licked his own lips, swallowed, and somehow talked himself into pulling away. His body had reacted violently, especially when he had seen Vincent taking some pleasure from the kiss. He shuddered once more, thinking _I could make you feel so good_ as the hands on his face slowly slipped away. _I'd run m'hands all over ya…kiss you everywhere…_

"Good," Vincent said softly as he took a step back, and his tongue came out to run over his bottom lip where he could still taste a little bit of the other man, but that too was fading. He had expected the cop to push him, to demand more, but when he didn't Vincent wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. "Shall I pour us some wine then?" he said a little absently as his brain refused to forget the feel of Cid under his hands and lips.

Cid hesitated. "I don't…I don't know if that's such a good idea." He tended to be a lazy sort of drunk, even after only drinking enough to allow for a slight buzz, but he couldn't guarantee that that would be the case tonight. He had taken advantage of Vincent in a way the last time they had shared wine, and he feared that he would go too far if it came to that again. However, he couldn't help but feel he should accept the invitation anyway. "Mebbe just one glass."

Vincent nodded and moved into the kitchen. He retrieved the Mideel Red from its ice chest and popped the cork. He poured two glasses, and returned to hand one to the cop. He grinned a little and murmured, "The good stuff." He was about to say more when the fuzz in his head was cleared by the timer going off. He straightened and said pleasantly, "And that would be dinner. Please, Mr. Highwind, if you could take a seat, I'll bring it out shortly." Fortunately the salad and bread were already set out. "Help yourself." He grinned and moved back into the kitchen.

Cid wasn't much for salad, but he placed a small pile of it onto an empty plate after picking through the bowl with the provided tongs to make sure there was nothing on his plate but carrots and croutons. It appeared that Vincent had hand-sliced and tossed the salad himself, and it looked remarkable even in the aftermath of Cid's rummaging. The bread was much more appealing to him, and he took two pieces to start. He wouldn't eat until Vincent had served himself and taken his seat, so for now he sipped his wine slowly. He had no doubt that it was definitely "good stuff," as Valentine had claimed, but he planned to stretch this one glass through the duration of his visit. Through a slightly open door, he could see the edge of a piano, and Vincent's admission to having once played the instrument came rushing back to him. How he would love to hear it! He wished for one brief second that he would have thought to trade the mako for a chance to watch Vincent play, but then he remembered the kiss and was ashamed of himself for even considering wishing it away. Maybe he would be able to convince him anyway…

Those were his thoughts when Vincent reentered the dining room with a steaming tray of something Cid didn't recognize but wanted to try very soon. "Whatcha got there, Valentine?" he asked teasingly as Vincent set the tray in the center of the table.

"This," Vincent said, setting the dish down with a tiny little flourish, "is just a little something I had picked up on one of my many trips to Mideel, with a few embellishments of my own. I had stopped in at a small café," he pulled out an additional set of tongs designed specifically for the serving of pasta, "and had this. The owner didn't even have a name for it, calling it the "House Special". I told him I had to have the recipe and after some tough negotiations – yes, he retained all of his digits, so don't look at me like that Highwind – he let me look at the recipe. Fortunately for me, and unbeknownst to him, I have an eidetic memory, so once was enough." He served Cid first, pausing in momentary puzzlement at the pile of croutons and carrots on the man's salad plate before shrugging and moving on to serve himself. When food was distributed and he had poured himself a second glass of wine, he was seated and said curiously, "Does the wine not suit you? You have hardly touched it."

"No, it's good! I just…well, I wanna be walkin' on my own two feet when I leave later, yeah?" Cid teased, remembering how Vincent had stumbled at first at the end of their last meeting. "But you, uh, didn't really answer m'question. Mideel's an island, right? I'm allergic t'seafood. This got any o' that in there?" he asked, taking a bite of the bread.

Vincent frowned a little, remembering his go around with the cheap wine during his last visit to the cop's apartment, and not at all appreciating the off-hand inference that he was a lush, but he restrained himself from insulting his guest. His mother had trained him right, and lessons beaten into your skull at childhood are never, ever forgotten. "Well, you are not going to be 'stumbling drunk' from one, two or even three glasses of this wine, not with food in your stomach. And to answer your question, no, this has no seafood in it."

"Well, maybe I just don't feel like drinkin', then. Or do I not have any rights while'm here?" Cid took offense for some reason in the fact that Vincent seemed to take offense at everything Cid said and did. "An' I'll take yer word on that. It…smells real nice," he finished lamely, trying to make up for snapping. He took two tongs' worth of the pasta and stared at it for a while, wondering why nothing he cooked every looked this…edible. "Looks good too," he said, grinning as he leaned over his plate to take his first bite.

Vincent chuckled as he opened his linen napkin and placed it carefully on his lap. He picked up his salad fork, and took a bite of salad before answering after he swallowed the food. "Of course you have 'rights' here, Mr. Highwind. Business has been concluded in a satisfactory manner for both of us, and we are now merely 'friends' enjoying each other's company are we not?" he said easily.

"F'you say so," Cid answered skeptically distrustfully eyeing something that eerily resembled a mushroom. He pushed it surreptitiously to the edge of his plate, along with anything else that was of similar shape and size. He continued eating in silence for a while, careful not to drain his glass of the dwindling amount of wine in it. "Vincent," he asked finally, "why'm I still 'Mr. Highwind'?"

Vincent blinked, caught by surprise at such as unexpected question. He lowered his fork and sat back, eyeing his guest. "Does my calling you 'Mr. Highwind' bother you? I am merely being respectful."

"I know, an' I appreciate it, just…you said a while back that we were past formalities an' all, an' I just wondered if it was a hint that we really aren't an' that you'd prefer I went back t'callin' ya 'Valentine'." Not that doing so was very respectful, frankly, but it was a bit more so than just 'Vincent.'

Vincent resumed eating as he carefully considered his answer. Finally he said, "That is true. I did say that, and I meant what I said. If you wish to call me by my given name, then by all means do so, and I shall have to trust to your judgment that you shall know when to call me 'Vincent' as opposed to 'Mr. Valentine'." He continued eating for a few minutes before looking up at the cop curiously. "Does it make you uncomfortable for me to call you 'Mr. Highwind'?"

Cid paused a moment, taking his time to word his decision appropriately. "Not…uncomfortable. But when we're like this, like you said, just friends enjoyin' each other's company…well, it's hard t'pretend we're friends if you call me that." He toyed with the pile of things he had deemed inedible at the edge of his plate idly, wondering if he had unwittingly committed some faux pas. Perhaps he should not have raised the topic at all; it seemed to have become a rather big production.

Vincent sighed, and placed his silverware on his plate, carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it too on the table. "Old habit, for me, Mr. Highwind. In this business I do not have 'friends' in the literal sense that I believe you to be speaking of. Please do not take offense, as I mean you none. Are you finished?"

"Yeah, guess so," Cid murmured, pushing his plate toward Vincent and standing. "Let me rephrase. I'd appreciate it if y'd consider callin' me Cid when we meet like this. Now, y'want some help cleanin' up?" he asked as he helped to gather the used silver and empty(-ish) plates and glasses.

"That will not be necessary, though I appreciate your offer. You are my guest, feel free to make yourself comfortable here, and I shall join you shortly." He collected the dishes and carried the first load into the kitchen. When he came back, the cop was still standing at the table. "Please Mr. High-…Cid." He fidgeted, not liking the sudden switch to informalities. "I have this, and I shall consider your request, though I make no guarantees as to the longevity of use in regards to the cessation of formal titles. Here," he reached for the cop's wine glass, refilled it, and handed it back to Cid. "The sitting room is quite comfortable and the view is spectacular. There is a balcony if you need to smoke and it can be accessed from there." Finally the cop left, and Vincent finished putting things away. He bagged the garbage and set it by the door to take down when he left. He had a cleaning crew come in once a week even though he didn't live there just to keep the dust down, and now they actually had something to do. He returned to the kitchen, poured himself another glass of wine and went in search of his 'guest'.

Cid had blinked at his refilled glass once and then firmly decided that he would have none of it. He didn't like being left alone here; it was so big and clean that he was nervous and jumpy. He had set his wine on a coaster sitting on the low glass table and begun slowly pacing around the room, finally pausing at the window. He didn't see what was so wonderful about the view. Buildings, street lights, city lights; it could all be seen well from so high up, but Cid had no interest in admiring such things. Night had fallen completely now, and Cid thought he could almost see a few stars through the smog. That brief spark of happiness died as he realized what he was really seeing: only lights on the upper plates, visible through framework under construction. He abandoned the window and began pacing again, not comfortable with sitting on the couch that appeared to have never before held a visitor. He had a dull craving for a cigarette, but he ignored it for the time being. For the moment, he just wondered why he was still here.

Vincent found Cid staring out of one of the large windows, tense and radiating his displeasure. He took up a position in a doorframe, leaning on a narrow hip and sipping his newly filled glass. "You are free to go at any time. Tseng is waiting downstairs and will return you to your new residence," he said quietly.

Cid turned and looked at Vincent in surprise. He had not heard the other man come in behind him. He nodded in response to Vincent's statement but made no move to leave. "So what, you just wanted t'do things the other way around? Show off yer place? Why'm I here, Vincent?" he asked, feeling that he had missed something very crucial.

Vincent arched an eyebrow and snorted. "Why would I 'show off my place'? You know money is no object to me. To be completely honest I cannot remember the last time I have set foot in this place. Rather I need somewhere controlled, someplace safe, particularly now that you have been compromised. Only Tseng, Reno, Rude, Verdot, myself, and now you, know of this place." Vincent shoved himself off of his hip and walked into the cavernous room and over to the fireplace and the dimming flames. He picked up a poker and idly began to stir the wood until the fire was brighter, the flames higher. He looked over his shoulder at Highwind. "Which brings me to my next question, Mr. Highwind. Just _what_ did you tell Deusericus?"

"Well, let's see. He knows I'm correspondin' with ya some kinda way. He knows that I know you need the mako, 'cause he knew first. I don't know how, but I c'n try t'find out for ya. He knows I've met with ya a couple times. He does not know that we're negotiatin' in any way or that I'm supplyin' you with anything but vague information. Told 'im in very little detail about what happened at the gala, 'cause he'd helped me pick out that suit an' he wondered why I didn't wear it last time I had dinner with 'im. Coulda made somethin' up, I know, but…I can't lie t'people I expect t'be honest w'me. Other than that, anything he knows he found out somewhere else." After finishing, Cid sighed and folded his glasses into his shirt. He would not mention the rest of what he had told Lazard, nor would he fulfill that promise now; this was not the time. "I don't know what his motives are fer wantin' me in a higher position, but that was his idea. Sure as hell wasn't mine," he snorted, wondering just when he had become such an easily manipulated pawn. "He'd better have a damned good reason fer bringin' me inta this, s'all I know." _Now_ he wanted a cigarette badly, but he decided to hold off for a while. No doubt he would have to field questions and accusations from Valentine, and his host would only grow more irritable if Cid walked onto the balcony now.

This information was troubling, very, very troubling. Vincent frowned. The logical course of action was the one he particularly did not want to take, at least not at the moment if he could help it. He wanted Deusericus working for him, not dead. Clearly there was a leak of information and he could no longer trust Highwind, which made him realize that he had in fact begun to trust the cop, and that unsettled him even further. The fact that he needed mako was not highly guarded, not when considering Rufus was in charge of the information. The fact that someone was manipulating Highwind into a position of power, and then having the cop so nonchalantly hand that manipulation over to him, was giving Vincent a headache. It was just one more thing for him to try to negotiate, and that was the last thing he needed. Briefly he considered cutting the cop loose. That would be the intelligent thing to do. The man was a blatant liability. Suddenly Vincent was exhausted. He walked over and sat down on the couch heavily. He set his wine glass down and put his head in his hands. "Do you know what kind of a position you have put me in, Mr. Highwind?" He asked wearily, looking back up at the cop. "Do you know what you have done to your 'friend'?"

"No. No, I guess I don't. I'll just lie to ya from now on, an' then y'won't hafta worry about it. How's that?" Cid said a little too loudly, picking up his pacing again. "What am I supposed t'do? I met with you once under his advice, and I made my own decision after that. I haven't told him anything since I decided to be yours except what happened the other night. Other'n that I don't- oh shit," he said, remembering that he _did_ know where Lazard had gotten his information. "Shit. Them three- those silver-haired ones? Was them what told 'im y'needed it. I just remembered. He told me that th'first time when 'e said I should meet with ya." Finally defeated, Cid sat on the couch beside Vincent and parroted his pose. "Th'world's fucked up. Who th'hell _are_ those sons o' bitches?"

"Then it appears that we are both being used, and that pisses me right off," Vincent growled low in his throat. He had fucked up, and fucked up very badly to not have followed up after those three, and now he was paying the consequences. He leaned back against the couch cushions, thinking hard. All this mess hinged around his need for mako, which in turn ran back to Sephiroth. By Kadaj's own mouth, he and the other two knew about Sephiroth, or at least of the man's existence. "They should be working for me," Vincent muttered darkly. "That was the agreement. If I find out for whom they are really working…" He needed to speak with Tseng and the others. He needed to locate those three and have a little word with them. He groaned softly. There were a lot of "need to's" in his schedule now. But none of that could be done tonight. "Do you think you can manage to find out what Deusericus knows?" he asked Cid wearily, rolling his head to the side to peer at the cop.

"I c'n try," Cid said softly, looking back at Vincent, "but I won't make you a promise I might not be able to keep." He reached out and placed a hand carefully on Vincent's shoulder nearest to him. "Fer that reason, I'm not gonna sit here an' tell ya that it's gonna all work out or any o' that shit. I will tell ya that I'll be here through all of it, on the chance that means anything t'you." His eyes were earnest as he found Vincent's and looked into them. "Should we bump up th'next meetin' so I c'n get the information back to ya right away?"

"We may have to," Vincent replied with a lopsided grin. "The longer we wait, the more can go wrong." And if they met every Friday, then he could finally get out from under Rufus and put the man away for good. He sighed again. "Well, the night is still relatively young. Is there anything you wish to do, or has my home thoroughly disgusted you into retiring for the evening?"


	14. Chapter 14

Special disclaimer for this chapter from calvi_sama: We do not in any way own, nor profit from, the characters and/or locations of FFVII, that would all be Square Enix. Also any other references to persons or products mentioned herein are purely coincidental *coughs*. Music from FFX composed by Nobuo Uematsu, and likewise belong to SquareEnix ^^

Also, as always, if you want the scenes deleted to conform to ffnet's rules, catch the uncut version at community (dot) livejournal (dot) com / cerberusgospel . The community is open to non-LJ members, so don't be shy!

There is also a built-in link in that version to the song Vincent plays for Cid, which is the reason for the above disclaimer. For those of you who'd rather just read it here, the song is specified at the bottom for you to look up on your own.

* * *

Squeezing Vincent's shoulder tightly before removing his hand, Cid started to say, _"Yeah, I think I'll go fer the night,"_ but stopped after he said it and grinned. "No, actually. There is one more thing I'd like. Would you…would you play for me? I saw the piano, and I wondered if y'd decided t'take it up again." He looked hopefully at Vincent, suddenly wanting very much to hear him play.

Vincent snorted softly. "I am afraid that I'm not very good, Cid. But I shall try." Vincent said, getting slowly to his feet and picking up his wine glass headed into the adjoining alcove that housed the magnificent black grand. He didn't have any sheet music, it all being back in his apartment in the ShinRa Tower, but he knew his composition that he had begun writing for his mother by heart. He set his wine glass down within reach by the music stand and looked sadly down at the keys. He felt the cop's presence behind him and he said softly, "This piece I wrote for my mother. It is not finished, she-she died before I got a chance to." And with that he laid his fingers on the familiar keys and began to play, his eyes slowly falling shut as the haunting melody filled the room.

Cid moved to the side as Vincent began playing so he wouldn't smother the other man with his closeness. He stood transfixed at the way Vincent's hands and body moved as he played, as if the music were playing him instead of the other way around. He noticed the lack of paper music and knew that every note was important, significant in some way, and that Vincent would not miss a single one. The tune lasted about two minutes, during which time Cid had hardly blinked. It was sad and quiet but somehow hopeful, and Cid was less surprised than he would have liked to be when he noticed that he had begun to cry. Two minutes, he learned, could be an eternity when everything during it spoke of loss. He did not know when he had moved to stand behind Vincent again, nor could he remember making the conscious decision to put his arms around Vincent's shoulders, but they were there. "Finish it fer me," he whispered. "Just because she isn't around to hear it, don't give up on somethin' so beautiful."

Vincent too had moisture on his cheeks after he finally dropped his hands from the keys, and he leaned back into the warmth behind him. He brought a shaky hand up and hastily swiped at the errant tears the song had called forth. He turned in Cid's arms to look up at the man and said softly, plaintively, "I do not know how. Beauty cannot survive in this world, it is devoured as soon as it is born." His eyes began to burn again and he glanced away, blinking rapidly and looked down at his hands. "How can I tarnish beauty with these hands that have only perpetuated darkness and all that is ugly in mankind?"

Cid could feel his heart begin to break at the sight before him. He released Vincent's shoulders reluctantly and moved to stand beside him. Soon Vincent's hands were in his, and he kissed the fingers that had just graced the keys of the piano. "That's not how it works. The beauty washes away all that. Let it cleanse you, let it swallow you whole, an' then you'll know how it ends." He held Vincent's hands a bit longer, until he suddenly became ashamed of his rough, almost stubby fingers in light of Vincent's smooth, elegant ones. He wanted to give comfort without accidentally causing discomfort, but he did not know how, and another tear rolled off his face before he could stop it. "Beauty doesn't die, Vincent. It sleeps. It stays dormant until someone comes along who c'n wake it up again." His hands, much too rough to play the part, took either side of Vincent's face. Cid winced briefly at the contrast but held his ground. He only had to look into Vincent's eyes for half a second to know what to do next. He leaned in to kiss him again, and when it broke, Cid found himself on his knees with one arm around Vincent's waist, craning up to keep reaching the other's lips. "Wake it up, Vincent. It's slept in you a long time."

Looking down into Cid's face, Vincent felt something deep inside himself stir, something he thought dead and rotted away. He brought his fingers up to trail down the cop's weather-beaten and weary face, stared into the exhausted blue eyes and saw something there that he hadn't noticed before: warmth, compassion…and hope. Without thought he dropped his mouth down onto Cid's, desperately as though to coax that very hope into his own starved soul. He thrust deeply with his tongue, encountering Cid's and sliding along it. He felt that tingle of awareness he had felt before only this time so much stronger, the possibilities both terrifying and yet too wonderful to pass up, and before he could listen to his better judgment his heart decided for him. "Stay with me." He breathed, his forehead resting against Cid's and his eyes closed in an effort to keep that warmth with him a little while longer.

"Always," Cid breathed back, "if you'll let me." He shifted his arms to hold Vincent tighter to him, ignoring the pain in his neck that came with straining upwards this way. Gently, he tugged at Vincent's waist in an attempt to bring him to a height level that would be more comfortable for them and give him better access.

Vincent gave the smallest hint of a smile and held his ground. Instead of allowing the cop to pull him down he rose to his feet and tugged gently on one rough hand until Cid stood and without another word spoken began to walk to the bedroom and enormous bed there. He left the lights off, instead letting the lights from the city illuminate the room. He stood with his back to the cop, his heart thundering in his chest and he swallowed nervously. He had never done this voluntarily before, and he was a little uncertain as to what to do, his only experiences having been of pain and force. Slowly he turned to face Cid, and watched the man out from under a thick obsidian mane.

Cid's eyes widened when he realized what Vincent was asking. He shook his head once in denial; how long had he fought to keep himself from wanting this? How many times had he forced himself from thinking of it out of respect? Now here he was, at a complete loss. Would this be betrayal, or would that be better defined as walking out the door? His shocked gaze found Vincent's, and he stared until he found some composure. With no better ideas in mind, he pushed the hair back from Vincent's face and kissed him again, opening his mouth to Vincent's tongue as his own returned the favor. He wound his arms around Vincent's body and held him close, but left the grip loose enough for Vincent to pull away if he so chose. Tseng had said this would require time, but Cid was beginning to believe that maybe Tseng was telling a stronger truth when he said he did not truly know Vincent. When the kiss broke, he nuzzled Vincent's cheek and whispered into his ear, "If we're gonna do this…I need you t'know that I will stop the second you tell me you want to and will think no less of you. Understand that. I couldn't forgive myself if I hurt you over this."

Not trusting his own voice, Vincent backed up far enough to slip his slightly shaking hands up between them and began to unbutton his shirt. When he finished, he let it hang open, but made no move to remove it from his body. Finally he whispered, "Do you not want this? Did I misread your touch? Mishear your words?"

"I want…this. I want it, but not because I want you to feel like you owe it to me. I can't accept it from you if that's all this is." His eyes pleaded with Vincent to assure him that this was not spawned from a sense of obligation, and his hands, also shaking, found places to rest on the newly bared skin of Vincent's body. "I want you so much," Cid groaned, feeling utterly helpless as he fought the last round of his internal battle. "But I love you, too, and that's more important. Tonight is yours, Vincent, and it matters much more t'me what you want."

"You love…?" Vincent trailed off, utterly shocked at Cid's confession. "But-but you do not know me, how can you…?" He tried very hard not to focus entirely upon the man's hands upon his chest, the rough way they brushed over his flesh to leave it tingling and hypersensitive. Unconsciously he had pushed into the contact even as he looked, completely stunned, down into Cid's face.

"All right. Then I care about ya, an' I wanna love ya. That sound better?" Cid asked as he finally pushed off Vincent's shirt. He had to contradict Vincent on one decision; the light from outside was not bright enough. "It ain't somethin' anybody c'n explain, Vincent, least of all me, but I just do." He ran his hands once down Vincent's sides, then brought them up higher to let his thumbs trace lazy circles around nipples that were quickly becoming very interested. "An' if we've learned anything, it's that I make a lousy liar, huh?" he said, smiling, as he led Vincent to the large bed.

Vincent had watched Cid's hands on his chest in a daze, his belly knotting and his groin becoming increasingly tight. Now the cop was gently pushing him back onto the bed and slowly easing him up until he lay completely upon it with Highwind settled in between his parted thighs. The weight from Cid's hips pressing down into his crotch was both horrible and delicious and quite on their own his own hips began to rock up into the pressure. He was being smothered in contact as Cid kissed him again, harder, fiercer than the other times and he moaned softly, wrapping his arms around Cid's clothed torso. All of his senses, all he could see, touch, taste, feel and hear was nothing but the other man, and this time he _did_ get dizzy as his breathing turned into ragged pants.

_insert deleted scene here_

It didn't take much longer before Vincent barked out a hoarse cry as his body released, causing him to curl up, tightening his abdominal muscles and thighs as his buttocks clenched and he came in short, quick thrusts of his hips as he fisted his hands in the coverlet once again. He clenched his jaw and was otherwise silent until his body was entirely wrung out. When he finally began to relax, his legs were shaking and his limbs were growing heavy. He lay still, breathing in soft, shallow pants as he looked out the window at the unique skyline. He felt dirty and used even though he had been the one to receive the pleasure, and when Cid moved out from between his legs he curled up onto his side, wrapped his arms around himself and pulled his knees up to his chest. He was beginning to think he had made a mistake.

Cid didn't know what he had done wrong, but when he saw Vincent curl away from him defensively, he figured it must have been something. "Vincent?" he asked, curling around the slimmer body and draping an arm over his companion. "What did I- what's wrong?"

Trying unsuccessfully not to cringe away from Cid, Vincent said softly, "You did nothing wrong. It felt very nice. Thank you for that." He didn't know why but he felt as though he wanted to weep, his eyes burned and his throat closed off. "I am just-just tired." And at that moment he had never felt so alone. He screwed his eyes shut and a tear finally escaped to fall onto the pillow that he had dragged down to prop under his head, and he curled up even tighter into himself. He reached out to try and drag a small corner of the coverlet over himself and only managed to cover his hips. It was the same every time, he always ended up naked and exposed, used and discarded, while those using him remained clothed, protected, distanced, and he opened his eyes to once again stare listlessly out the window.

"Don't you lie t'me," Cid said, a bit more harshly than he would have liked. He released Vincent, who appeared not to want his company anymore, and began pacing the room. "You wanted me t'stay, but you won't even let me hold you? Vincent, I- why d'you wanna hide from me? Is it th'scars? I have 'em too," he said softly, "though they're not much alike." To prove his point, Cid removed his shirt and dragged one of Vincent's hands from where he was lying on it and placed it on one of the worst ones, one he'd gotten during his first year on the streets before he'd learned the rules of Midgar. "Move over," he commanded, and Vincent scooted almost imperceptibly, but Cid wedged himself onto the mattress anyway. "Do you think that I don't want you because o' them? That isn't true. I just don't know where the line is between acceptin' pleasure from you an' forcin' you t'give it. You hafta set that, Vincent, 'cause I don't know what t'do." He pulled Vincent's arm over him carefully. "Is it any better if you hold me? I don't wanna let go of ya just yet." _I don't ever wanna let go of ya._

"Don't look at me," he begged and when Cid turned away from him Vincent wrapped his arm around Cid's chest and clung to the man. He buried his face into the broad, tawny, heavily muscled back and wept. He dug his nails into Cid's pectoral and sobbed silently until he was completely exhausted and just lay there with his cheek against Cid's shoulder blade. His arm relaxed and said, his voice tired, "I do not know what is real any more, Cid. Sex is currency in my world, sex is a weapon, no don't….turn around, please-please allow me to remain like this." When Cid stilled again, he said, "Just once, I want something other than a lie…just once." He ended in a whisper. "I want something to fight for again."

Cid was silent until he knew for sure that Vincent was done speaking. He placed his hand over the one on his chest and wove their fingers together from behind, holding tightly to the hand he would have to release all too soon. "It might be, in your world, but it ain't gonna be your world anymore. S'gonna be ours. That's what you fight for, Vincent, for our world, 'cause it's not a lie. S'our job t'make it the truth." He soon found himself fidgeting; he was not used to being held. "Why can't I look atcha? Wanna make it better, Vincent. Wanna hold ya."

He squeezed Vincent's hand and shuddered as their fingers moved together over his chest, accidentally brushing against a nipple. He could feel hot breath on his neck from Vincent's rapid but slowly calming breathing. All this reminded him that he had declined Vincent's offer to bring him pleasure, and that his body had not agreed with him when he said that pleasing Vincent would be enough. Cid raised the pale hand to his lips and kissed it before letting go of it. He worked off the jeans he was wearing while trying not to wriggle too much and kicked off both them and his socks when they got close enough to his feet.

"S'better," he said, pressing back against Vincent more firmly now that he could fully appreciate the contact. "Yeah, that feels good," he muttered. "If I promise not t'look, c'n I hold you too? Wrap you up in these ol' arms an' rock you t'sleep? ...Right after we call Tseng an' let 'im know he c'n go home fer th'night, o' course." Cid had learned much about Vincent tonight, and of all the secrets he held, he knew that those would be kept most private and closest to his heart.

"I am not a child," Vincent murmured, pressing his cheek against the bare shoulder under it. "Regardless of how I might act at times." He voice held warm humor, and he squeezed briefly before he whispered, "You still wish to stay?" At the cop's nod he didn't, for life of him know why, but…"Good, that pleases me." It was also a good excuse to get out of bed and collect himself after that embarrassing display of pent up emotions that he apparently hadn't known he'd had. Slowly he slid out of bed and got up, going first to retrieve a pair of loose silk sleep pants – he needed something _on_, not liking being completely nude and exposed. He slid them on and then crouched down to retrieve his phone from his discarded pants pocket. Standing back up he wandered over to the wall of floor to ceiling windows and dialed Tseng's number. He looked down at the brightly lit city, placing his fingers lightly on the glass as he waited for Tseng to pick up the phone. Finally he heard his second's voice.

"Yes, sir?" No hello, no name…just how Tseng operated.

"Mr. Highwind shall be staying here tonight." Vincent said softly. "Go home and get some rest, I've been running you like a dog these last several weeks. Take some time for yourself."

"Vincent?" Tseng said slowly. "Are you all right? Did something happen that I need to know about?"

"No…no, everything is fine. I'm just…tired, is all." He replied, voice never changing tone or pitch. He stared down at a tiny neon sign.

"We're all tired _niisan_," Tseng said quietly. "I'll have my phone, call me when you need me. Oh, and Vincent? Be careful…"

"I will. Thank you, Tseng." And with that the call ended. Vincent snapped the phone shut, but didn't turn around. "Look at them down there." He said to Cid, himself, no one in particular. "Going about their simple little lives, just trying to survive, make ends meet, all while I slowly fall apart up in here my glass and marble castle…my coffin…my death." He laughed softly, sadly. "Oh, how I wish I were one of them: unimportant, invisible, forgotten."

Cid sat up, not liking Vincent's tone or his words, and looked at him looking out the window. He was unsure whether it would be better to stay where he was or to go to Vincent. His personal preferences won out in the end, and he moved to stand behind Vincent. "Everything's…to scale. To them, their problems are as big as yours are t'you. They're not as unimportant an' invisible as you think they are. I'm only just recently learnin' that m'self." He did not attempt to hold Vincent again, but he did lean forward to rest his chin on the shoulder he'd kissed earlier. "Say, Vincent?" he asked curiously. "How old are ya?"

"Ah, but you see." Vincent replied leaning in toward Cid's head with his own. "I'd wager that those people do not wake up every morning wondering who it they shall have to kill or intimidate, or whose family they are going to rip apart. My past…the things I have done, shall forever set me apart from them." He leaned a little into Cid, enjoying the comforting presence of the other before he answered the cop's question. "Thirty-four, but I feel as though I should be sixty-four. Why?"

Cid chuckled. "I dunno why. Just seemed like somethin' I oughta know. Didn't expect ya t'be older'n me, that's fer sure." They stared for a while, the silence this time bearable and even companionable, before Cid said, "Let's go back t'bed. I think we could both use a little sleep, prob'ly, an' there ain't no guarantees fer me that y'll still be here when I wake up, so I wanna make sure y're at least here when I fall asleep. If y'just wanna stand here a little more…well, I'd like a goodnight kiss in that case," he said eagerly, tugging teasingly on one of Vincent's arms to encourage him to turn around.

Vincent looked over his shoulder at Cid, raising an eyebrow. "_Older_ than you?" He winced theatrically. "If you look like that at 'under thirty-four', I would hate to see how you look at forty. My mind just refuses comprehend that." His lips quirked in a little grin, but he allowed Cid to pulled him back towards the bed. They settled side by side and Vincent put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. "Such a strange turn of events…" he turned his head then to look at Cid, and asked curiously, "Why you? Of all the people they could have put on me, I wonder why they chose you."

"Hey, m'just a little…rugged, a' right? Y're just jealous. Couldn't grow stubble like this if y'tried, I bet." He grinned back, situating himself beside Vincent and looking happily at him until he had to stop smiling to think very hard. "Hm…could be 'cause they figured y'd kill the first one y'caught followin' ya. Hell, I dunno how they think, not even Lazard. Ain't complainin', though," Cid said, winking.

Vincent snorted, mind elsewhere. "I would not _want_ to grow 'stubble' like yours even if I could…'_rugged'_." Vincent chuckled and shook his head. "If that is how you prefer to call it, then I shall abide by your wish, although we both know the truth. You just do not age well…ow!" Vincent said, laughing as Cid pinched his side in retaliation. Still laughing Vincent rolled onto his side, dragging the coverlet over them both. Tucking his arm under the pillow that currently supported his head, and still chuckling he said, "Go to sleep, Cid."

Cid peeked over Vincent's body in a bad imitation of stealth. "'ey. Not even a little one?"

Vincent cracked one eye and rolled halfway over to look quizzically at Cid. "Little one, what?"

Blinking in disbelief, Cid replied, "A kiss, o' course. Don't reckon as I'd get much sleep without one." The grin he showed now was the same as the one he'd sported when they were laughing together moments ago, but his eyes were sincere as he leaned in to emphasize his point.

Vincent's smile slowly faded as he rolled completely onto his back to look up into Cid's face. He watched the man for a moment before he reached up, threading his fingers through the soft blond hair and pulled Cid's mouth down onto his own. This kiss wasn't frantic or hard, but rather soft and tender, gently searching rather than demanding and desperate. When he released the cop and rolled back onto his side, shutting his eyes he murmured softly, "Thank you…Cid." And finally let his exhausted body sleep.

Satisfied with the kiss and even more so with the fact that he was going to wake up tomorrow in this warm bed pressed against a warm body, Cid also closed his eyes. Before he could sleep, though, he took a moment to revel in the fact that Vincent had laughed for him, honestly and openly and not in cynicism. It was that thought on his mind as he fell asleep, smile firmly in place as he rolled to face away from Vincent, their backs touching practically all the way down.

He woke in the morning prepared to attempt to make breakfast for them, but found that he could not move. Vincent was lying on his chest, legs between Cid's, and one of Cid's arms had ended up tossed haphazardly over Vincent's back; it slipped to thump against the mattress even as he noticed it. "Mm," he said, happily nuzzling and kissing the skin under Vincent's chin. _Don't know how you got there, but don't move._

Vincent woke up slowly. He was seriously uncomfortable, his neck hurt and there was a kink in his lower back that made him wince, but he was _warm_, and that was a first in a very long time. He nuzzled into his pillow as he squirmed and tried to stretch, grunting softly only to realize that his "pillow" was another body…a very _male_ body. Starting awake he pushed up on his arms and looked down at Cid Highwind's amused and sleepy face. Quickly he scrambled back onto his knees, shoving his hair out of his face even as it began to heat up. "My apologies, I-I must have shifted in my sleep…" He looked around confusedly.

"Hey, don't you worry 'bout it, not one little bit. I ain't slept that good in years. So sweet when y're sleepin', y'know that?" Sleepy or not, Cid knew that now he was awake, Vincent had to get off him soon if they were to maintain a civilized relationship this morning. "Think I'm gonna go shower, if y'don't mind. Y're more'n welcome t'join me, o' course," he said, grinning. "An' when I'm done, I'll cook ya some eggs like I cook fer me! …An' then by th'time that's done, I'll need t'take another shower…but anyway…Mornin'!"

"Uh, yeah," Vincent said dazedly and moved off of Cid so that the cop could get up. "The bathroom is through there. There are clean towels hanging by the shower and extras in the cabinet, use as many as you like. Point of fact, help yourself to anything you find in there." He said softly waving toward the door that was across the bedroom before turning away to sit on the edge of the bed. He sat like that a moment, staring at the ground and thinking about what had happened last night before he cringed and got up when Cid did. As the cop headed into the bathroom, Vincent made his way into his walk-in closet to find a suit to wear. He would shower at his other apartment. By the time Highwind was finished showering, Vincent was groomed and garbed in a casual, figure-flattering suit. He had brewed some coffee, and was now standing at the windows in the living room sipping a cup of the bitter liquid, and staring blankly out at the city-line as the sun continued its journey upward in the sky.

Cid, wearing only a towel around his hips, moved in behind Vincent and slipped an arm around his waist. He craned his head around the taller man's neck to plant a kiss on his cheek. "So why y'keep it so well stocked here if y'never use th'place?" His chest was pressed fully against Vincent's back, and he hoped Vincent felt as warm and secure as he did as a result of their closeness. No matter how he tried, Cid could not understand how he could feel anything close to comfort in the presence of a man like Valentine…but then he remembered that Vincent and Valentine were different parts of this man's life. He loved Vincent, or was starting to love him, but Valentine still unnerved him. He could be cold; Cid had seen plenty of that, but he could also be warm and a very pleasant companion. The tough exterior was deep, but it had been stretched so thin now that Cid wasn't sure how Vincent was still emotionally alive. "Vincent, are you…I don't want us t'go back t'bein' cold to each other. I know we gotta be when it's business, but when it ain't…it wasn't just nothin' fer me last night. I don't want it be just nothin' fer you." Unsure of how to ask this (for surely "Will you be my boyfriend?" would be a most inappropriate way), Cid could only hope Vincent caught the implication…and then hope for a favorable response.

A tic began in Vincent's jaw at the show of casual familiarity Highwind was displaying. He was confused and so torn that he was sure his soul was bleeding. He had taken such great pains to build defenses against the life he had been forced to live, until who he used to be had suffocated. He didn't know how Cid had managed it, but the cop had somehow revived that part of him that was so weak and near death, so that now it mewled and pleaded for succor. It could never work, and he would be deluding himself to think that it would.

They were from two different worlds, and if it got out that he had taken the companionship of someone from the across the legal and moral tracks then his days were very much numbered. Not to mention, he would be crippled, weakened and made vulnerable by this powerful new weapon to use against him. And he simply could _not_ afford that. Especially not now. Not when _someone_ wanted his life. His common sense and survival instinct told him to cut the cord between them and distance himself from Highwind before it was too late, even while what was left of his starved heart was whispering that it already was. The bottom line however, remained: he didn't want to hurt Highwind, even though he knew he inevitably would, but it would be infinitely more cruel to string the man along with false hopes. He needed to think about this…_very_ carefully.

So he opted to skirt around the most obvious hint that the man was dropping and answer the easier question instead. "I believe in being prepared, so I be sure to keep stocked what I can because I never know when I shall require the use of this place." He kept his voice soft and carefully neutral. For now, he ruthlessly crushed down on the tiny, pathetic voice that pleaded he turn and allow the cop to hold him properly. He had to wean the cop off of him…somehow. He turned his head just enough that he caught the rougher features of the man in his peripheral vision and said, "Highwind, I would like to apologize for my behavior last night. It was weak and unfair of me to place my burdens upon you. I would be grateful if you would consider granting me your forgiveness." He had to force himself to remain in Cid's loose embrace while the man who he had become grew increasingly more uncomfortable, and the man whom he had been crooned peacefully, ripped apart in his own personal civil war. Distantly, he had begun to wonder just _when_ it was that he had died.

_That's how it's gonna be, huh? Well, I ain't givin' up on you, so y'c'n just stop that right now, y'dum__bass_, he thought as he squeezed Vincent briefly. "Hardly need t'be forgiven if y'didn't do nothin' wrong. An' I can't forgive ya fer what y're doin' now, 'cause yer tearin' yerself apart. I c'n feel ya doin' it, an' it's hurtin' me too. So don't," Cid said, dropping his head onto Vincent's shoulder and putting both arms around him. "Don't think about this, Vincent. Let yerself feel it. If y'won't...y're gonna lose what's left. I know ya think it's gone already, but it ain't. You proved that already. Keep it alive. Give in, Vincent, an' just feel. Don't make me let you go." He couldn't tell if he was ultimately making a difference, but he did know that his every word tormented Vincent. He knew it hurt, but there was no way to get around that. It would have to hurt at some point, and Cid figured it would be better for the pain to come now than later, because if it came later, it would bring with it regret. "Make love with me," he murmured against Vincent's neck just below his ear. "I won't look at all if that's what y'need."

"I can't," Vincent said, his voice barely a whisper. _If you had asked me last night, I would have_, he thought as he closed his eyes. If they came together in carnal union, there would be no going back, he knew that now. He turned slightly to look at Highwind. "I believe you now, and because of that I cannot give you what you seek." He reached up to touch Cid's cheek, but stopped just short of contact. "I'm sorry." The look in those cerulean eyes, the honesty he saw there, coupled with Cid's words only hardened his resolve and his inner voice finally fell silent. "Let me go, Highwind. Some dreams are never meant to be realized." He searched Cid's face, pleaded with his blood-colored eyes and breathed. "Let me go."

Cid's eyes first hardened, then almost immediately softened again. "No," he said, completing the contact Vincent had not quite made. He held that hand to his face and kept his eyes on Vincent's. "If ya really do believe me, then y'already know I can't. I don't want to, either, even though it hurts. You c'n kick me outta here now, but I'll always come back, an' I'll never give up on ya no matter how many times y'send me away."

"As you wish," Vincent said dispassionately, withdrawing his hand and reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone. Without breaking eye contact with Cid he punched in a speed dial number. "Tseng, Mr. Highwind needs a ride back to his residence." He then flipped the phone shut and replaced it. "Get dressed, Mr. Highwind. Tseng shall be here shortly." He turned away and headed into the kitchen to grab a glass, then rummaged around until he found the Vodka that he always kept stocked. He poured a glass, then took a gulp as the cop moved dazedly back into the bedroom, wincing as the liquid burned down his throat.

Suddenly he needed some air. Vincent walked over to the doors leading out onto the balcony and let himself out. He stood at the railing while the dirty, cold air moved around him, whipping his hair in a wild black cloud about his face. Someone was screaming. He shook his head to try and clear it, wincing as an unexpected pain lanced his heart. Someone was screaming, and he didn't know where it was coming from. He dropped the glass and it shattered on the ground into a thousand rainbow hued prisms. Gripping his head he clenched his jaw and leaned forward onto his elbows. _Stop it…stop it, stop it! _ He begged as he fought for control, until just as abruptly as his glass had shattered, everything just stopped, and he was once again returned to the cold stillness that had become who he was. "Lucrecia…" he sighed in defeat. Never once did it occur to him that the one who had been screaming…was him.

_So cold…_Cid walked away, wondering what it was about him that repulsed people so much…besides the obvious. Vincent had already made it past the obvious and it had hardly bothered him. But now he had gone and said something wrong and screwed up something else, as was his lot in life. After quickly tugging on his pants, Cid grabbed his shirt and tie and went back out to find his jacket. He could see Vincent through the glass of the doors, apparently in agony, and Cid turned away to keep himself from running after him. In the end, even that did no good, because as soon as his shirt was buttoned, Cid opened the door to the balcony and stepped onto it. He would not invade Vincent's personal space again today beyond the bare minimum. Well…a bit more than the minimum. He placed a hand on Vincent's shoulder and said, "I'll go wait downstairs. I'll see you Friday. An' Vincent…give it some thought, since y'seem t'think it needs thinkin' about. I'll wait." With that and a peck of a kiss to Vincent's lips, stained with alcohol so early in the morning, Cid exited the penthouse and reentered the elevator.

"Then you shall wait in vain, Mr. Highwind," Vincent said coldly to the now empty apartment. Leaving the glass where it lay, he went back inside and stood in the doorway to the bedroom and stared at the rumpled bed. The air was still moist from Highwind's shower and much of the bedroom was still in shadow. Walking over to a chair that sat in the deepest one of them, Vincent sat down and stared out the window, mind blank and heart hollow.

An hour later, Tseng entered the apartment that he had visited only a handful of times in the past, carefully, after first knocking loudly and no one had answered. He didn't know what kind of mood Vincent would be in given the rather shell-shocked and exhausted state the cop had been in for the silent ride home. The door to the balcony stood open and Tseng went over to close it. "Vincent?" he called.

Nothing.

There was no one in the living room or kitchen areas, no one in the study, which only left one other place. The bedroom door was cracked open, and Tseng approached it carefully, reached out and knocked twice; still no answer. Frowning, he pushed open the door and stepped into the dim room. "Vincent?"

"I am here," Vincent said softly, and Tseng had to squint and wait until his eyes got used to the gloom before he could just make out Valentine in the corner. From what he could see, the man was pensive and exhausted. _Beaten_, Tseng thought, arching an eyebrow. _He looks beaten_.

"Are you all right, sir?" he asked, his black eyes missing nothing as he took in the state of the bedroom, from the rumpled sheets to the used bath towel in a discarded heap by the dresser. It was a loaded question, and thankfully he didn't have to elaborate upon its finer connotations.

"Yes, thank you." There was a brief moment of awkward silence before Vincent rose and walked out the door, Tseng falling in behind him.

"Do you have everything, sir?"

"Yes," Vincent said shortly and allowed Tseng to overtake him and hold the front door open for him. As Vincent passed him he paused, took out his dark glasses and put them on, still not looking at him. "I need you to do something for me, Tseng."

"Of course, sir," he replied easily.

"The piano," Vincent murmured, pausing long enough for him to look over his boss's shoulder and just catch a glimpse of the meticulously cared for piece in question. He looked back at Vincent with a raised brow. "Get rid of it." And Vincent continued past him to wait by the elevator.

Tseng was shocked speechless, and only gaped after his friend. Vincent _loved_ that piano. He had been so proud when he'd found it. "Sir?" he asked, only just managing to keep from sounding as shocked as he felt. _He couldn't get rid of that_!

"Do I need to repeat myself, Tseng?" Vincent asked, back still to him.

It was a rare moment indeed when Tseng was ever gripped with the urge to pry out of disrespect, and now was just such a moment, but he knew better. He knew that he would never receive the answers he longed for, and so had it always been since the day Vincent had shown up on his doorstep out of the blue almost four years ago. Instead he sighed and shook his head sadly. "No, sir." And with that he shut the door with a 'click' of sorrowful finality.

* * *

And the song, in case you didn't hit calvi's version of the chapter, is "To Zanarkand" from Final Fantasy X, composed by Nobuo Uematsu. I had fallen in love with it the first time I heard it, and I shared it with her, and we agreed that it fit Vincent perfectly, especially in this fic. Review if you agree? Or if you disagree. Or if you have no opinion, or a split opinion, or want to rant at us about the horrible day you've had...*desperate*

Thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

No warnings for this chapter :D Sorry it's a day late. Enjoy!

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"Aerith, honey, think y'c'n do me a favor of a personal nature?"

Aerith raised an eyebrow, interested but still absorbed in her crossword puzzle. "Hm?"

"I need somebody followed."

"Cid," she sighed, "I'm not going to stalk him for you. For one thing, you need to approach him yourself. For another…isn't that kind of your job?"

"Not Vincent," Cid said, setting a cup of tea in front of her. "His buddy. Tseng. I need t'figure out how t'find him when 'e ain't on duty, an' I can' very well follow 'im seein' as he knows me."

"What makes you think I'll get away with it? This is what he's trained for. He'll probably think I'm that guy from the party and just shoot me down."

"Nah," he grumbled hoarsely, knowing Aerith was just trying to be difficult.

"What's in it for me, anyway?" she asked, finally looking up from the newspaper and tucking her pencil behind her ear.

"Made ya tea, didn't I?" he teased, racking his brains to find a suitable reward. "Well, he's a pretty good-lookin' fella. Y'might hit it off, an' if not, at least y'get some eye candy, right?"

"You're lucky I want you to be happy, you know that?"

"I know it," Cid said, turning the task over to Aerith. He had figured out that Tseng would have to be caught with his guard down if there were any chance of him helping Cid. He was, however, beginning to wonder if a man like Tseng ever truly relaxed. Every time Cid had met him, he had been uptight to the point of being stuck up. The information-gathering would be tricky, but it would probably be worth it if it worked. _An' anyway, I got through t'Vincent, didn't I? Well, sorta. Tseng can't be too much harder._

Vincent had been irritable all week. He had hardly slept, choosing instead to either work or pace his tiny apartment. His work, when he elected that route, usually went poorly because he found himself thinking about Highwind, of what the man had said, and the crushed look he had seen in the blue eyes when he had called Tseng. It also hadn't helped that Rufus had ridden him all week as well, demanding that he go 'personally' to collect on trivial debts that he normally would have sent Reno or Rude to collect on. Vincent knew that Rufus was testing him, and given the state of things right now with everything _else_ in his life, he needed to keep Rufus complacent and happy. He didn't get _this _far to have things implode on him now, _so _close to the end.

"I can hear you thinking from here, sir, and it's rather painful," Tseng said from behind the wheel as he drove Vincent to yet _another_ meeting with Highwind.

"Then don't listen," Vincent grumbled back. "Did you get word on the investigation of the raids on those medical supply caravans to Junon?"

"Yes, Verdot and the others had apprehended them all I believe and are en route back to Midgar as we speak," Tseng said, signaling and turning onto a residential street. "He was very glad for the reassign."

Vincent snorted. "I'll _bet_ he was, are any of them still able to speak?" He wanted to question them thoroughly, and find out who had told them to use his name.

"Three or four of them last I heard, higher ups so they'll be able to tell you what you want to know, I think." Tseng chuckled. "As for the rest of them, it's doubtful they'll regain consciousness any time soon, if at all."

"I'm impressed," Vincent had to grudgingly admit. "Verdot _does_ have self-restraint."

"Don't tell _him_ that, sir," Tseng said, and Vincent could hear the grin his second had on his face, in the man's voice. "The _last_ thing we need is Verdot getting a swelled head."

Vincent groaned. "Perish the thought. He's already arrogant enough; he doesn't need to think I'm favoring him. That would just make him annoying as well as insufferable."

"Precisely," Tseng said, pulling the vehicle to a stop outside a respectable apartment complex, "but he _is_ good at what he does."

"That he is," Vincent conceded. "He's professional and he cleans up after himself. He has intelligence, which is why I leave him alone." He sighed and rubbed his temple. "Do I _have_ to do this?"

Tseng turned around and gave Vincent an incredulous look. "Are you _whining_, Vincent?"

Vincent glared back at his second. "_No_, I am simply voicing my displeasure at having to meet with the cop right now. There is too much going on at the moment that needs my attention and…why are you grinning like that?"

"You _are_ whining," Tseng said smugly. "Don't bother to deny it, I've known you too long."

Vincent had nothing to say to that, so remained silent, which only earned him a victorious smirk from Tseng. "Try and have some fun this evening, sir."

"Shut up," Vincent grumbled and got out of the car, making a point to slam the door a little harder than he had to.

Over the quiet clamor of Cid's rather busy apartment, louder-than-necessary footsteps could be heard as someone came down the hall. Intrigued, Cid opened the door and was surprised to find that the stomper was Vincent, who stopped moving when Cid poked his head around the doorframe and called, "Hey, Vincent! C'mon in. I uh, got a little unexpected comp'ny. Heh. Hey, you guys, this's Vincent, th'man I tolja was comin'. C'mon'n interduce yerselves."

Two more heads stuck out the door and focused their twin stares on Vincent. "Hi!" the smaller one piped, a little girl with a pink ribbon in her hair. The boy, whose head was easily inches higher than hers, just stared skeptically at the dark-haired man paused in the hallway.

Upon seeing the newest addition to the 'meeting', an unholy scowl pulled Vincent's lips down and narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Mr. Highwind, what is the meaning of this?" He looked at first one child and then the other before leveling his glare back on the cop. "I did _not_ come here to 'baby-sit'."

"Aye…I know. I wasn't 'spectin' it either, like I said. They're good kids though, Vincent, real quiet an' all. Miss 'lena just didn't wanna leave 'em alone. She just dropped 'em by 'bout ten minutes ago, an' I thought about callin' t'reschedule with ya, but I knew y'd'a already been on yer way. C'mon in anyhow. Don't hafta stay too long, o' course, if y'don't wanna."

_Damn, he looks even better wi'that hat o' his_, Cid thought smugly as Vincent stepped inside. "Dinner oughta be here soon. Ordered pizza this time, seein' as I wouldn't want 'em chokin' down somethin' I cooked like you did."

A few feet away, Marlene was already occupied with her dolls again. She seemed to be playing a silent, unexciting game of make-believe with them, but Cid could not identify what that game might be. He had offered to play with her earlier, but she'd declined and said she didn't like boys. Cid had laughed, thinking that he was hardly a boy, but hadn't protested. _Darned things're prob'ly covered in germs an' shit anyhow._

Denzel, on the other hand, was wandering restlessly around the house. His only complaint had been that there was nothing here; the TV only picked up "boring" channels, and Cid didn't have any interesting board games. His game systems had been left behind when they had moved out, so he couldn't play those, and he didn't feel like reading yet. He always fell asleep when he did, and it was much too early for that.

"Well," Cid said, taking note of the awkward silence in the room, "why don't we play a game?"

"You don't have any," Denzel pointed out miserably from the couch.

"Not every game has a board. Whaddaya say, Vincent? Charades? Pictionary? Got any suggestions?" Cid nudged Vincent with an elbow as he settled onto the arm of the couch next to him, trying to get him into the spirit…or at least pretend to be so the kids wouldn't feel unwanted.

Scowl still very much in place, Vincent said darkly, "I do not 'play games'." But the boy, Denzel, was eyeing him strangely, and he began to fidget. Raising an eyebrow he asked wryly, "Do you find something objectionable, young man?"

By way of reply, Denzel scooted closer, and reached for Vincent's dark glasses. Vincent caught the boy's wrist to stop its progress. "Bet'cha got red eyes under there," he said eagerly.

"Excuse me?" Vincent asked sternly.

"I know who ya are, I seen ya on the TV. Yer that Valentine fella, ain't'cha!" Denzel said, blue eyes going huge as recognition hit. "Marlene! C'mere! It's Vincent _Valentine_! Y'know, that guy from TV! The scary one that mom says we have'ta be careful of!"

_Oh no_, Vincent thought with growing horror. It was bad enough that Cid had children in his home, but now it was infinitely worse that these children _recognized_ him! He eased back even further into the couch as Marlene came over, cocking her brown-haired head and blinking enormous brown eyes curiously. She didn't appear to care so much about who he was as to what was on his head. "Hey mister, I like yer hat, c'n I have it?" she asked, and reached for his fedora.

Vincent's other hand shot out to stop her hand in mid-grab. "No, you may _not_ 'have it'."

"What's it like, Mr. Valentine? Bein' a mobster 'n all? D'you have'ta like beat people up all the time? Do people really recognize you wherever you go? 'Cause I'll bet they do. Man, that would be _so _cool! I'll bet'chu have a really neat car. D'you have a lotta guys workin' for ya? D'you have'ta, like, have all those really big meetings n' all where all the other big bosses get together? I'll bet th' girls really love y-"

Vincent cut Denzel off mid-sentence by removing his hand from the boy's wrist and firmly clapping it over his mouth instead. "Do you ever _shut up_?" he asked desperately. He pulled back as Marlene went for his hat again with her other hand, and he desperately wished he had at least two more arms. "Not the hat, young lady." But he wasn't quick enough to dodge Denzel's move as the boy snagged his dark glasses to reveal his crimson-colored eyes.

"_Awesome!_" Denzel said from behind Vincent's hand, which sounded more like: "awwwfoom".

"That's it," Vincent said, gently pushing Marlene back, snagging his glasses from Denzel's hand, and standing up. To Marlene he said, "Do _not_ touch my hat." Then to Denzel he held up a finger and said firmly, "I am _not_ a role model, young man, nor do I appreciate being pawed at. Have you no manners?"

Placing his glasses into the breast pocket of his suit coat, he leveled a look at Cid. "Do you have anything to drink, Mr. Highwind, or shall I drink out of the toilet?"

Cid glanced apologetically at Vincent as he wondered just what had gotten into the children. They had been incredibly well-behaved as far as he'd seen…but then, Vincent got him worked up as well, so he couldn't really blame them. "Y'all be nice t'Vincent. An' don't go tellin' nobody y'seen 'im, neither," Cid said as he went into the kitchen to fetch the "good wine" Lazard had left him. He poured a glass for Vincent and started to pour one for himself, but opted to play the responsible adult while the children were here. In three identical glasses, Cid poured grape juice, though he figured he would not fool the kids that way.

"Here we go," he said, handing the distinctly darker glass to Vincent and keeping the other three for himself and the kids. "C'mon an' sit back down, Vincent," he said, patting the cushion next to him. He very much wanted to collapse against Vincent's warmth and just stay there as he had before, but he knew that was positively not happening today. He'd be damned, though, if he let Vincent leave without a kiss.

Vincent gratefully took the wine glass, and took a sip. He nodded in approval, and then opted for the familiar beat up recliner instead of the couch. He didn't need to be smothered tonight. _I knew I should have canceled_, he thought miserably. Cid had given him that extra mako, so he could have opted out. But he never reneged on an agreement, not without a hell of a good reason. He was horrified on a very deep level that he had actually briefly considered pissing Rufus off enough to beat him unconscious again, but that would have kept him from going to the sanatorium, so it was not an option. What a mess things had become. How was he going to discourage the cops' amorous advances if he kept meeting him like this? With a deep, weary sigh, he took another drink of wine and rubbed his tired eyes.

Cid had nodded at Vincent when he'd seen the other man take the chair. Once a week, he noted, was much too often for them to meet as long as the distance between them was so great. The pizza arrived shortly, twenty minutes later than it should have, and Cid got it for half the price as a result. Denzel ate nearly half of what was ordered himself, while Marlene seemed to grow quite sleepy after eating. Cid raised an eyebrow as she turned to Vincent, pouting and seemingly near tears.

"Mommy always reads us a story. How come she ain't home yet?"

Cid glanced at the clock. It was indeed nearly the time Elena had given for Marlene's bedtime. "I'm sure she's just runnin' late, honey," he answered firmly, looking worriedly at Vincent.

Denzel let out a surprisingly loud belch and pushed his chair back. Cid suspected that he, too, was concerned as to his mother's absence and was being rude to cover it up. "I don't need any old story," he said, looking defiantly at Cid. "I can read."

"I know y'can," Cid said, trying to sound proud without sounding patronizing. "That what y're gonna do now?"

Denzel nodded and ran into the guest room, slamming the door behind him.

"Kids," Cid sighed, and turned to observe Vincent's progress with Marlene.

Vincent blinked at Marlene, as she looked up at him out of eyes much too large for her face. "What do you want me to do about it?" he asked awkwardly, and he knew he had said the wrong thing when a tear leaked out of an eye and down onto her cheek. He felt a softening in his chest. He reached out and brushed the backs of fingers down her soft, soft cheek, "I'm sure she's just running late, Marlene. Perhaps I might read you a story instead?"

"Yer not mommy!" Marlene said sorrowfully, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. "I want my mommy!"

Vincent sighed, leaning forward onto his knees and said, "No, I am not your mother. But you are making me sad with your tears, and do you know what I need when I am sad? To make it better?"

"What?" Marlene sniffled, curious despite her misery.

"A hug," he said, making his eyes as large and innocent as he could while giving her a small smile. "Do you think you could you give me a hug?"

Marlene eyed him a moment as though contemplating the request before she stepped in between his spread legs and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. Vincent's throat closed unexpectedly as he wrapped his arms around her slight body, and he inhaled the soft, clean scent of her hair. Would his son's hugs have felt like this? He suspected that they would have, only better. Without thinking he scooped Marlene up to sit on his lap and out of reflex she snuggled down into his chest, her tiny hand seeking out some strands of his long hair to twine around delicate little fingers. "I am sure your mother will return shortly, and until then I shall look out for you, all right? Would you permit me to read you a story? I would like that very much."

Marlene pulled back away from him and looked up into his face a moment before finally nodding and crawling off of his lap and over to a pink bag that she kept her dolls in. She rummaged around a little bit before she produced a ratty, severely dog-eared book, which she clutched to her thin little chest. She came back over to Vincent and timidly held it out to him. Vincent took the beloved book with careful reverence, "_The Thirteen Adventures of Nanaki the Red_, I do not believe I have ever read this one," he said, looking at Marlene with interest. "Is it good?"

"Uh-huh! It's my favorite!" Marlene said, clambering up onto Vincent's lap again, and curling up, hand finding its way back into his hair once more.

"Then I am sure I shall like it as well," Vincent replied, lifting the footrest and rocking them both back into a more comfortable position. He began to read while Cid manhandled the door to the guest room open to make sure Denzel was getting settled properly (and not tearing something up that he shouldn't be), and had only made it through the fifth adventure before Marlene had fallen asleep. He closed the book and laid it on the table by the chair. He was comfortable, warm, full, and the alcohol he had consumed has sucked what little strength was left in him right out, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep, with his nose buried in Marlene silky hair.

Cid stepped back into the living area after having a heart-to-heart with Denzel about setting an example for his sister (which had gone surprisingly well, for all appearances, at least), and he stopped dead at the view that greeted him. His warm smile at the sight of Vincent sleeping so soundly was not at all diminished by the fact that Marlene was sleeping on him…though he was a bit worried that they would both wake up in pain after sleeping in that chair. He flopped onto the couch and flipped through the book, amused by the drawings of a feline…thing with lots of decorations.

"S. Weaver, huh?" he asked aloud as he read the statement that the story was written and illustrated by the same author who had written his personal favorite story as a child, "King Alexander and the Black Materia." Soon he too was drifting, an unlit cigarette in his mouth as he watched Vincent sleep without stirring. _Who'd've ever thought a man like him could sleep so peacefully?_ Cid wondered. A sound of discomfort reached his ears just in time to bring him back to full awareness; Vincent was blinking awake slowly and confusedly, and Marlene seemed to be resituating herself in a most time-consuming, flailing manner.

He saw Vincent take an elbow to the stomach, and decided it was time for all of them to move to more comfortable sleeping arrangements. Cid stood and approached them, shaking Vincent awake the rest of the way. "C'n move 'er t'the room with Denzel, an' you c'n get some sleep in th'other bedroom. I'll be in here if y'need me," he offered, tilting his head in the direction of the other room.

Vincent grunted again as Marlene placed yet another sound jab to his ribs. How something so small could deliver such a stout punch, he'll never figure out. With a low moan, he returned the footrest to its original position, and collected a sleepily protesting Marlene into his arms. He carried the girl into the guest room to deposit her in the bed next to her brother. He kissed her forehead as he tucked her in, then returned to the living room where he removed it and draped it over a dining room chair, his awareness a delayed fog as he was still half asleep. He then wordlessly moved into the remaining bedroom – it never occurred to him that it was in fact Cid's bedroom he was occupying – and literally fell into bed. He was too exhausted to bother with dragging a blanket over himself, and within moments of his head hitting the pillow, Vincent was once again, sound asleep.

_I really gotta stop gettin' this guy drunk, 'specially since I ain't just havin' m'way with 'im when 'e's like this,_ Cid scolded himself as he dug through the pockets of Vincent's coat for his phone. Tseng would be wondering soon where Vincent was, he was sure, and Cid did not have Tseng's number. After finding the phone, Cid had to look twice as long to make the thing call Tseng. Although there were only three stored in the memory and one other under 'recent calls' (that one, incidentally, being his own), Cid could not figure out how to make the speed dial work. Eventually, he decided to write down the number and dial it manually. He was pleased beyond all reason when the acknowledgement came over the line.

"Yes, sir?"

"Heh. Well, I don't reckon I c'd pull off his voice if'n I tried, so I ain't tryin'."

"Highwind?" Tseng said startled. "How did you did get Vincent's phone, is he all right?"

"He's fine. Passed out on me again, lazy ol' thing, an' didn't have t'time t'call ya. Figured I would so y'didn't come bustin' down m'damn door," Cid replied, grinning. "He was exhausted 'fore 'e even got here. Y'shoulda made 'im stay home an' rest," he finished more seriously.

"I would have tried if I had thought the effort would have done any good." Tseng said wryly. "As it is, I'm glad he's actually sleeping. I've been concerned about him since he hasn't been this past week, I'd say no more than six hours total. Do him a favor and don't wake him up again anytime soon."

"Nah, I ain't goin' to," Cid assured him, then laughed. "An' I reckon it'll do all o' y'all some good if he ain't so…well, cranky." He sighed, wondering if Vincent would wake if he were to slip into bed behind him. Probably not, the way the man slept. "Well, he'll be here. M'sure in the mornin' he'll feel real bad fer not callin' ya, but take it easy on 'im."

A rude snort was all Tseng gave the cop in reply. "Good evening Mr. Highwind." He hung up.

Satisfied somehow with the turnout of that call, Cid replaced Vincent's phone in the pocket where he'd found it, then on second thought added a slip of paper into the pocket. The paper bore these hastily scribbled words:

_Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle's compass come,_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom_

His work done, Cid smiled and returned to the bedroom to check on Vincent. His shoes and socks were still on, and he was lying across the bed without so much as a sheet to cover him. Cid remedied those sleep-disrupting ills quickly and quietly and somehow without waking Vincent. _T__'hell with it all_, he decided, and crawled under the covers after removing his own shirt. Spooned up behind Vincent with one arm protectively curled around the other man's chest, Cid placed his head on the pillow beside Vincent's and exhaled carefully against the pale neck before him. He felt vaguely creepy for this, but more comforted. Besides, it was his bed, and he could sleep in it if he wanted to sleep in it, regardless of Vincent's presence. "G'night, Vincent," he whispered as sleep tried again to claim him.

* * *

...Y'know, Cid really is kind of creepy. Don't try this at home, folks.


	16. Chapter 16

In which Vincent is manipulated and Cid feels a slightly bad about it...but Marlene does not.

_

* * *

"You're losing sight of the goal, Vincent_."

"_What? No, I'm not!" he replied, shivering as the misty, freezing fog enveloped his once again naked body.  
_

"_Then what are you doing?" purred the deceptively velvety voice. "Besides seeking pleasures of the flesh and turning your back on your duty to me. Did I not sacrifice for you?"_

"_But I have been getting you the mako, on schedule, just as you have asked of me!" Vincent felt the old familiar fear turn his limbs to lead as just out of sight, a tall, powerful shadow coalesced into being. He squinted to try to make out detail, but as always he could not._

"You have," hissed that voice. "And that has been your only saving grace. You are becoming dangerously distracted, and our empire is beginning to crumble. I will not be denied this, Vincent."

"_I have it under control," Vincent said, and was surprised at how confident he managed to sound._

"_You had better." And suddenly there was a blinding slash of pain that brought him to knees and caused him to cry out. "Or I shall take from you all that is left of those you care for."_

_Bowed under the heavy weight of that pain and scrutiny, Vincent could only whimper._

"_You know I speak the truth, and you know I have the power. They move against you even now, and you will be powerless to stop them."_

"_I'll fight you," Vincent gasped, digging his fingers into the frozen ground. "I'll not go down without a fight."_

_"And I shall look forward to it," the voice growled. "But until then, fulfill your duty to me."_

"_Yes." And then there was nothing._

Sleep had again quickly chosen to abandon Cid as he stood on its brink. This time, Vincent had begun some mild thrashing in his sleep, enough to disturb Cid but not to worry him. The worry came when he heard a small, defeated sound that told Cid that Vincent was having some kind of intense dream, most likely a nightmare by the sound of it. All Cid could do was hold him tighter, and he did. Vincent had, by some combination of Cid's squirming and his own, turned to face Cid, and that made it all the easier for Cid to hold him close and drape one of his legs over Vincent's hip. "You just be still an' calm down," he said soothingly to the sleeping (and now already quite calm) man. "You ain't goin' nowhere an' ain't nobody after you. 'Cept me, but that ain't no reason t'be afraid. M'a good man, Vincent, when it comes t'you. Dunno why th'hell that is, but I am." He fell asleep like that, cradling Vincent with his body, and had never been more comfortable in his life.

A fist to his jaw was what first jarred Vincent toward the world of wakefulness, but it was the knee quite firmly planted in his groin that banished any sleepy haze from his brain. He sat up with a pained hiss, both hands going down to protectively cradle what felt like very bruised testicles. Blinking dazedly, it took him a minute to realize that he was very much not in his own bed…nor was he alone in the borrowed one either. He looked next to him and saw the cop, belly down and drooling on his pillow even while he snored quite loudly, and wedged in between them was Marlene, who even now was reaching for his hair again. It had been cute before…and then she had kneed him in the balls. Redirecting the imp so that she latched on to Highwind's arm and shirt instead of any of his now quite sensitive appendages, he slid out of bed and tried to stand up.

"Owie!" he muttered softly as his jewels throbbed in time to his heartbeat. "May your husband be a eunuch so that he may never feel the wrath of your knee." He directed at the sleeping Marlene and stumbled out toward the kitchen to get a glass of water. He distinctly remembered going to bed _alone,_ and the fact that he woke up with not one, but _two_ people in bed with him…and one a grown man, no less…unsettled him somewhat, so he figured if Highwind could sleep on the couch then so the hell could he. After all, he had been forced to sleep on much worse in the past. He didn't even _want_ to know what his suit looked like, but he figured it was pretty much a lost cause. Finishing off a small glass of water, he limped over to lie down on the couch, grabbing his coat as he did so, and glancing at the clock over the television. It had only been _four hours_! He groaned and turned to face into the cushions that would normally have been at his back, punching the lumpy pillow under his head and using his coat as a blanket. His last thought before falling once again into slumber was that his neck was going to hurt like hell when he woke up again.

Cid had not woken when Vincent had left the bed, nor had he woken when Marlene had snuggled against him. Clearly she was a much more docile sleeper after the first hour; she calmed almost immediately after Cid turned in his sleep away from hands that were much too small to be any comfort. In fact, he did not wake until well into morning, and that was only because a teary Marlene announced very loudly that she wanted her mommy _now _and didn't want to stay with the smelly man and the story man anymore, even if they were nice. He lifted her sobbing form into his arms and carried her into the living room. After setting her in the big chair, he knelt down and did his best to console her, assuring her that Elena would be back soon and they could go home. Denzel was nowhere to be seen, and that quickly became Marlene's next topic of worry. Upon inspection of the guest room, the boy was found to be sleeping soundly, and Cid did not wake him yet. Instead, he fixed some breakfast for Marlene and went in search of Vincent. He was not in either of the beds or on the couch, and the only sign that he had not left was the fact that his shoes were still near the coat rack. Finally thinking to check the guest bathroom, Cid noted that water was running and steam was coming from under the door. Just to check, he knocked and called, "Vincent? That you in there?"

"No, it's the water deciding to come on by itself. Yes, it's me." Vincent called irritably, rubbing the back of his neck. He was right. His neck hurt, his back hurt, his _head_ hurt…hell, _everything_ hurt. He stood under the hot water and tried to relax muscles that were wound so tightly that he was surprised that he could even still move them. Vincent groaned and leaned his pounding head against the cooler tiles of the wall, eyelid twitching in time with his pulse. They seriously needed to revise their terms of this arrangement before it crippled him. It had actually been the headache that had woken him and made him go on a quest for painkillers. He had finally found them in the bathroom. While he was there, he had decided to take a shower and see if the hot water would help his back. It did, but only to an extent. When the water finally began to run cool, he turned it off and stepped out of shower, feeling only a little bit better. At least his headache was beginning to fade.

He had been panicked at first when he woke up, and it occurred to him that he hadn't called Tseng to let him know where he was, but his intelligence had put a screeching halt to that train of thought when he realized that his second had not come breaking down the door to find him, which meant that Cid must have called him. As it was, it was more than time for him to leave now. He thoroughly dried off and slowly began to redress himself, wincing in pain as he saw the rumpled condition of his suit. Once done, he exited the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen in search of coffee and Cid. However, he froze in the doorway when he saw the cop's face. "What is it?" he asked suspiciously.

"She still ain't back, Vincent. I dunno what t'think anymore, an' Marlene…she needs 'er momma, Vincent, an' I don't know what t'do for 'er." He glanced back Marlene, who was idly playing with her dolls in the living room while not so inconspicuously listening to the men talking. Cid pitched his voice lower and continued, "I think we oughta go look for 'er. Would you help me with that? I know it ain't really your problem, but…those kids, Vincent, they look up to ya fer no good reason. Give 'em a reason."

Vincent sighed, just shy of exasperated. "Mr. Highwind, that is not my job, so do not take the noble route with me. I could care less about domestic disturbances. She is probably with some boyfriend, and just forgot to come home. It happens. Besides isn't that what _you _peopleare supposed to do?" He walked past the cop to lean against the countertop, cross his arms over his chest and pin Cid with a flat, less-than-amused stare.

Cid crossed his arms right back and gave an equally determined stare. "She wouldn't do that, Vincent. She just wouldn't. She's a good girl, an' I think you know that. Somethin's wrong, that much is fer sure. And 'us people,' unfortunately, don't respond t'kids callin', an' they sure as hell ain't gonna listen t'me. No, I'd hafta do this m'self, an' you know how hopeless I am." He paused for a moment, stuck as to how to convince Vincent that Elena was in trouble and, more importantly, that Vincent should help Cid help her. "You'll agree with me, even in your line o' work, that there ain't no excuse fer a man t'beat up on a woman, 'specially when she ain't done 'im no wrong. Ain't right, either, for 'im t'raise a hand to 'is kids. That's what Miss Elena got 'em out of on 'er own two feet, an' she ain't stupid. She ain't gonna leave those kids now, an' she ain't gonna walk 'erself right back into a bad situation. She's a respectable woman with a strong mind, an' I ain't gonna let you say otherwise." Eyes locked with Vincent's and hands coming to rest protectively on the shoulders of Marlene, who had come running as soon as "Elena" and "look for her" had been said, Cid waited for a response and prayed, for the children's sake, that it would be a favorable one.

Vincent clenched his jaw, as a tic began. He did _not_ enjoy being manipulated, and this was the worst kind. He was trapped into helping Cid find this woman. If he refused, which a man in his position would do if he were of a sane mind towards his better interests, he would come off as being a truly rank bastard. But _dammit,_ Highwind knew how to play him, and fortunately for the cop that was _precisely_ how he felt. There was absolutely no excuse for treating a woman in such a fashion, let alone innocents, and very few things pissed him off more than bullies. With a lethal stare and nearly silent snarl, he pushed his way past Highwind and over to his coat, which he had draped back over the kitchen chair. This was the worst idea possible, opening him up to not only recognition from the underbelly, but exposure of his teaming up with the authorities. He could ruin a lot of carefully constructed and tended business relationships with this incredibly stupid move on his part. He could have one of his men stand in for him, but the results would be the same, and at least this way he could control what was said and what was done, thereby minimizing the collateral damage.

Fishing out his phone, he angrily punched in Tseng's number and hit 'send'. Before Tseng could answer in his usual flat tone, he snapped, "I need you at Highwind's residence, _now_."

"Is everything all right, sir?" was the predicted reply.

"No, it is not. Something has come up that requires my…_attention_." He spat the word, and began pacing restlessly. By this time Denzel had appeared, and was looking at them worriedly out of frightened blue eyes. With a wince, Vincent forced himself to relax, and take several deep, steadying breaths. "I need you to bring me my street clothes, do you remember them? From when we were first starting out?"

"Y-es," came Tseng's hesitant and wary reply.

"And a weapon. Not Cerberus; that would draw too much attention. Quicksilver, I believe, should suffice." He hesitated. "And my gauntlet."

"And _that_ wouldn't draw too much attention, sir?" Tseng asked shrewdly.

Vincent sighed. "It would, but fortunately not many people have seen it and those who have are either dead or I shall _not_ run into them, unlike with Cerberus. And any additional protection would be beneficial."

"Understood, sir. I'll be there shortly." Tseng replied, and hung up.

Turning back to Cid he said flatly, "Happy now?"

"I'll be happy when we find 'er." Truly, though, Cid _was_ happy, though his aim had been not to manipulate Vincent but to sort of direct him onto the appropriate path. Given any degree of thought, those concepts came out to be the same thing, but Cid figured that in this case, the end justified the means. Still, he couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of guilt at Vincent's attitude. "M'sorry, Vincent," he said quietly, drawing Denzel closer to them as well and squatting to be on the kids' level. Still looking up at Vincent, he continued, "It's just that I know ya hate what y've become, y'said so yerself. The choice you gotta make now is whether y'wanna sit back an' let it get deeper or if y'wanna counter it by doin' things like this even if they pose a risk to ya. I wanna help ya make th'right choice."

To the children, he said, "I'm gonna call a friend o' mine who'll come sit with ya. Her name's Miss Shera, an' she'll take good care o' y'all, but y'gotta be real quiet an' behave real nice 'cause she's gonna have a baby soon an' she don't need no stress. Me an' Vincent're gonna go look fer yer momma, 'cause we know she wouldn't up an' leave y'all, seein' as she loves ya both so much." He met the tear-glazed eyes of each of the children and hugged them to him before standing again, hearing his knees crack as he did. "Gettin' too old," he said, grinning at Vincent. "I'mma make thirty in a couple weeks. How's that fer not agin' well, eh?"

Vincent flexed his fists so hard that his knuckles cracked. He wanted to hit Cid. He really, _really_ wanted to hit Cid. The man had no idea what his life was like, and now he was giving him "sage" advice? He let his breath out in a huff, and walked over to the window to stare down onto the street until Tseng arrived, leaving the questioning of the children to the cop. After all, the gods forbid, he made a 'wrong choice' in front of the children. _I want out,_ he thought darkly. _I want away from you, from all of your whining, and self-deprecating…and why can't you leave me alone! What are you trying to do, Highwind, save me? Change me? If I let you fuck me, will you leave me alone?_ Vincent rubbed his temples agitatedly. The pain in his body only added to his foul mood, and the need to move was becoming difficult to ignore. He knew he was scaring the children, he could sense it, and the scent of their fear was tangy and cloying in his nose. Suddenly he felt dizzy, and without further word of any of them, he walked into the guest room, and shut the door behind him.

"Don't worry 'bout him," Cid said haltingly to the children. "He'll calm down; he's just a little upset. S'cause yer momma's missin'," he lied, "an' he don't know what t'do about it." It was clear that they knew he was not telling the truth, but as he didn't know what the problem really was, he could not do much better if he tried to be honest. Brisk knocking on the door alarmed Cid somewhat, and he went to it, only to find that both Tseng and Aerith, whom he had called a few minutes prior after learning that Shera would be unable to make it, were there, each clearly wondering what the other was doing there. "Hey there. Y'all c'mon in. Vincent's in th'guest room. You, uh, might wanna give 'im some space –well, I reckon y're used to it, really. I dunno how I keep upsettin' 'im, it just happens, y'know? Aer, c'mon in. This's Denzel, an' this's Marlene. I wish I could tell ya how long we'll be gone, but I just ain't got a clue."

"All right," Aerith said cheerily, smoothing her skirt as she sat down in Cid's chair and picked up Marlene's copy of the compilation of Nanaki's adventures. Marlene tried very hard to ignore her, but as Aerith began reading aloud, she could not resist the call of a lap she could tell would feel almost like her mother's if she sat in it. Denzel, too, was calmed somewhat by the gentle, feminine voice that was not unlike Elena's, and he sat on the ground near the foot of the chair and listened to Aerith reading the tales from the storybook as Marlene clambered clumsily into their "babysitter's" lap.

Cid stood awkwardly by and watched the scene, seeing that here, too, he failed where others succeeded. As of yet, the only role he had ever filled successfully was that of the fool, and he was tired of playing it.

Tseng stood a moment, and watched Aerith sitting with the children, still somewhat startled that this young woman, with the biggest, greenest eyes he had ever seen, had ended up in the same place as he. She had been cheerful and warm when he'd held the door for her upon entering the foyer of the apartment building, and then had held the second set of doors open for _him_ with a smile and a giggle. It had been quite a fetching giggle too, one that had shivered up and down his spine and _actually_ made him smile. Then they had walked up the stairs together and he had listened, entranced while she had chattered away, and he had learned that she had a secret passion for botany…flowers in particular. She hadn't asked what he did for a living, and he was grateful for that, thinking that it would have spoiled the moment if he had revealed what he did on a regular basis. It was the strangest thing; the fact that Aerith was a friend of Highwind did not bother him in the slightest, like it should have. Likewise, he found it strange that he just wanted to sit with Aerith and listen to her talk. She calmed him in a way that nothing else had before, and made him forget who he was.

Shaking his head as though snapping from a trance, Tseng hefted the large duffel in his hand, and headed for the closed door just off of the living room. He could practically _feel_ Vincent seething behind it. He knocked once upon the door and entered, sighing as he watched Vincent pacing in front of the window, the Aerith-induced calm floating away like petals on the wind. "What has you so uptight?"

Vincent just shot him a glare.

"You know," Tseng said, setting the duffel down onto the bed, "you really need to relax, Vincent. I know the cop is insufferable, but try to cut him some slack. He appears to genuinely care for you."

"He is an idiot! And all he does is _whine_, Tseng. You know how I feel about whining." Vincent said, coming to a stop and crossing his arms over his chest.

Tseng winced. Unfortunately, he did. "So where are you two headed off to? I don't think I need to tell you how inappropriate this move is."

"No, you do not," Vincent said curtly, going over to the bed and rummaging around in the duffel. Slowly he began to strip: first his rumpled shirt, then his slacks. He took out his leather pants and held them up, wincing as he thought about cramming his silk boxers into them.

Tseng chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest to lean back against the door. "I took the liberty to include undergarments more appropriate for those pants, sir."

"Ah," Vincent said, as he found them. He quickly dropped his boxers and slid on the alternative, wincing at how restrictive they were, and taking a moment to situate himself more comfortably within them. Next he pulled out the dove gray shirt and put it on, loving the feel of the less elegant, but no less soft, fabric upon his skin. Following that, he slid on his soft leather pants, and was actually rather amazed that they continued to fit so well, clinging to his long legs like a second skin. It really had been too long since he'd worn them. He tucked in his shirt, then buttoned his pants and did up the belt, topping off the ensemble with a black leather vest.

"So where are you going, sir?" Tseng asked again, leveling a harsh stare upon his friend.

"Hunting," Vincent sighed as he pulled a fingerless black glove onto his right hand and full-length one onto his left. "The children out there seem to have lost their mother, and I am going to help Mr. Highwind find her."

"Uh, correct me if I am wrong, sir, but isn't that what the authorities are supposed to do?" Tseng asked, a little dumbfounded.

"And when have the authorities been competent at anything lately, Tseng?" Vincent retorted, lowering his sleeve, and buttoning the cuff, before fishing out his gauntlet and sliding it over the glove and sleeve, buckling it in place. At Tseng's snort, Vincent said, "Exactly. Apparently, this woman extracted herself and the children from an abusive relationship and now, if I understand things correctly, she's missing."

Tseng growled softly, low in his throat. "A man has no right treating a woman like that, or his children, the coward."

"I feel the same way," Vincent said softly, looking up into his second's black eyes. "That woman is all those children have. How can I not do this? You cannot save them all, but how could I live with myself if I turned my back when there was something I could do? Even now we may be too late."

"Do not speak that way, Vincent," Tseng said, pushing himself from the door and walking over to place his hand upon his friend's shoulder. "You'll find her, and you'll make that bastard pay. Of that, I am certain. Is there anything you wish me or the others to do in the meantime?"

"Would you watch the children?" Vincent asked carefully.

"But Aerith is…" Tseng started, dubiously, not liking the idea of being a 'babysitter'.

"He is out there, and he may come for the children. We do not know his reason behind taking the woman, assuming it was even him. So I would feel better knowing there was someone protecting them until we know for sure."

"Understood, sir," Tseng said, only mildly put out. Deep down, he had to admit that he would like to spend more time with Aerith.

"Thank you." Vincent sighed, sitting down on the bed, and putting on his heavy biker boots. That done, he stood up and faced Tseng as he checked Quicksilver's condition, popping the clip to check the ammunition, the slapping it back into place, and tucking it into the waistband of his pants in back, under his vest. "Well?"

"It's been a while, sir, but that look still certainly suits you." Tseng replied in approval. "Have you calmed down now?"

"Yes." Vincent said. "Now let us get this thing moving." And after Vincent carefully folded his rumpled suit and placed it into the duffel, he opened the bedroom door, and he and Tseng exited it to face the cop and worried children.

Cid looked up when the door opened and swallowed at the sight of Vincent. For some reason, this look made him all the more alluring. Cid had an almost unbearable urge to tackle him and pin him to the floor in front of the kids and everyone. He also had to clear his throat before he could speak, but when he did speak, he asked Denzel, "D'you know where yer momma went, kid? She didn't tell me 'cept that she was goin' t'settle somethin' with yer daddy. Y'know 'is name?"

Denzel nodded and answered, "We only ever knew 'im as Spike. He lives down by my old school, the one they tore down last year, but I don't know if that's where she went. Aerith?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Hm?" Aerith responded, pausing in her reading and turning to regard Denzel with big green eyes.

"I'm scared."

"Oh, honey, it'll be okay," she said, reaching over to ruffle his hair and smiling at his blush. "Here, we'll go sit on the couch so you can both sit with me, and you'll feel better then." Lifting Marlene in surprisingly strong arms, she moved to the couch and set the girl on her left while patting the cushion on her right to indicate that Denzel should sit there. He did so eagerly, then remembered that he was supposed to be acting the dignified big brother and sobered quickly, pretending he had been cool and collected the entire time. Aerith giggled again and smiled at Tseng, whom she found to be quite handsome. He had a nice face and a nice figure, but above all his eyes and his manner captured her. She knew who he was, of course, and what he did; how long had she known? For as long as Cid had been following Vincent for work purposes, at least, and that was years. Still, he managed to be a gentleman –or at least act like one- for her, and she hadn't been able to help returning the favor. She, too, had killed and tortured and done things similar to what she knew Tseng to be involved with. His eyes spoke of great compassion hidden within the indifference, and a wisdom she could admire, being an intellectual herself. His quiet strength was almost as subtle as her own, but she doubted he had come across his in any way but the natural. She took a moment to rue the circumstances that had made her who she was; without them, she probably would have been the woman Tseng was likely imagining her to be.

Every time he felt he'd made some progress, Vincent would find something else to be upset about, and Cid could not convince himself that it was denial that drove the other man to do that. He moved around to the couch to kiss Marlene, Aerith, and Denzel each on the cheek, ignoring their giggles and protests and "ewww, Cid, you're gross!" statements as he said, "Y'all take care. I'll be back." To amuse the children, he said, "Whoops, I missed one," and, grinning, he approached Tseng to do the same.

Looking mildly alarmed and slightly panicked, Tseng took a step back at Cid's approach, until he caught Vincent's raised eyebrow and amused grin. He hadn't seen that expression on Vincent's face for well over ten years, and it pained him at how much he had missed it. So the stoic, proud Wutaian held his ground, screwed up his face as though tasting something sour, and endured the humility for his friend, as the cop gave him a quick, dry peck on the cheek. He was rewarded by another one of Aerith's precious giggles with the added bonus of two squeals of laughter from both children, and a rumbling chuckle from Vincent. _That_ had made it _all_ worth it.

Watching the interaction between Denzel and Aerith had made Vincent cringe inwardly, ashamed at his earlier behavior. Smile fading from his lips, he walked over now, and crouched down in front of Denzel after first nodding respectfully to Aerith. He lightly touched the boy's knee, and was glad to see that Denzel did not pull back. "Look at me, son." When frightened blue eyes met red, Vincent said softly, "We are going to find your mother. I promise. But I need you to be brave for your sister. Can you do that for me?" Denzel nodded, biting his lower lip, and Vincent reached up, first brushing the backs of fingers over Denzel's cheek before gently pinching the boy's chin between thumb and forefinger. He smiled. "Good," he said approvingly.

He pulled back, but before he could get to his feet, Denzel flung himself off the couch and into Vincent's startled arms with a tiny, nearly indiscernible sob. "Thank you, Mr. Valentine." Vincent hesitated a moment before he wrapped his arms around the boy, as Denzel clung to his neck. Burying his face in the soft sandy hair he whispered, "Vincent. Please, call me Vincent." He tightened his hold a moment before gently removing the boy's thin arms and easing back. He smiled again. "And you are welcome."

Tseng watched the whole display between child and man with sorrow. _You should have been a father, my friend. Life is too cruel that he was taken from you. Leviathan knows I would trade my life for his in a heartbeat._ He looked over at Aerith, and saw that her too-green eyes were suspiciously shiny. He then glanced over at the cop and saw such heartbreak upon the man's face that Tseng knew Highwind wasn't entirely reacting to the child's plight, but that he actually did appear to _love_ Vincent. "You two need to get going. Each moment you waste here is too precious to lose. I will stay with Ms. Gainsborough and the children until you both return."

"Thanks, buddy," Cid said, tipping an imaginary hat in Tseng's direction and turning to face the door.

He stepped toward it, but before he could open it for Vincent, Marlene's tiny, yet surprisingly shrill voice commanding him to: "Wait! Kiss Vincent too!"

Cid stopped and fought with his face for a moment, fighting it back into a smile before turning to face her. "But honey, Vincent's comin' with me, so I don't hafta kiss 'im."

"But you do!" Marlene argued. "'Cause if you don't, maybe he'll think you don't love him as much as you love us and he'll feel left out. You wouldn't want that, would you?" she asked earnestly, using her eyes to make Cid feel obligated to obey her.

He sighed and answered, "No, I sure wouldn't want 'im t'think that," while looking meaningfully at Vincent. He would not, in front of an audience, kiss Vincent any more soundly than he had kissed Tseng, but Vincent would know, and the other adults likely would as well. "Guess y're right, honey. He needs some kissin' too, huh?" Cid grinned widely again, affecting a glee he did not feel, and walked over to Vincent. He had to fumble for composure again in order to make himself behave as he brushed hair away from Vincent's cheek and kissed that cheek, and he could tell by the silence in the room that he held his lips there a moment too long.

Vincent stood frozen to the spot as Cid kissed him. A plethora of feelings warred for dominance in his mind: nervousness, revulsion, fear, anxiety, hopelessness, desire, rejection, yearning…and something else, something nameless, all fought each other and held him stiff and immobile. When Cid pulled pack, he helped the cop along, and put him firmly at arm's length from him and said in a forced voice, "There, see? I do not feel left out now." He turned to Tseng. "I need the…" and his reflexes snapped his hand up in time to catch the car keys that Tseng zinged at his head. "Thanks," he muttered.

"You're welcome," Tseng replied, leveling a look at him that spoke volumes, and promised a heart-to-heart in the near future, which had Vincent visibly cringing.

"Shall we, then, Mr. Highwind?" he said, walking to the door and holding it open for the cop who quickly slid by him. He looked back at the four sitting on the couch, watching them. "This will be resolved quickly. I have my phone; I'll call you if I need you," he said to Tseng, and got a nod in response. Then he was out the door and following the cop down the stairs.

* * *

Will it be resolved as quickly as Vincent hopes? Tune in next time to find out!

...Why yes, I am ridiculous. Thank you for noticing.


	17. Chapter 17

Warnings for this one: Violence, gore, death of a minor character, UST

* * *

They drove in silence for a while, Vincent managing the wheel quite easily despite his gauntleted left hand, and taking direction from the cop without comment. Finally he said softly, "I shall let you handle the bulk of this. Just think of me as your 'muscle'. The fewer people who recognize me the happier…and _safer_, I'll be."

"I'll keep ya safe," Cid promised quietly, staring out the window after finding himself unable to look at Vincent. All this was quickly growing to be too much, and he desperately needed to get it under control before he became, well, desperate. The glint of the sun on the gauntlet caught his eye, and he wondered silently if Vincent hated it for what symbolized.

Vincent signaled and turned into traffic that was moving slowly due to an overturned truck ahead. He caught Cid's sidelong look at his gauntlet where rested upon his knee. "Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asked softly.

Cid replied, "No, not really, but I reckon it prob'ly should. I just wondered if it made _you _uncomf'table." He returned to gazing out the window and crossed his arms over his chest, realizing that this was the first time he and Vincent had been alone in quite some time. He didn't know how to handle it, and he wasn't up for trying to figure it out. All he could do was make small talk and hope things stayed positive. "I don't even know where th'hell we're goin'," he told a passing building matter-of-factly.

"I think I have a vague idea. I used to do a lot of business down here in the early days." Vincent said wearily. The tension between them was slowly draining him of his energy and he found himself rather missing the easy banter he and Highwind used to have. If it had ever _been_ easy. He made a loose fist with the gauntlet, and laid his head back against the headrest, as the traffic ground to a halt. "It used to. You would not believe how many times I used to cut myself with this thing until I learned how to use it properly. Cid, look," he turned to face his companion. "I feel that I need to apologize. I should not have asked you to stay…when I did. That was unfair to you…don't, you don't have to say anything. But if we are going to work together in this, I need some of this…tension, lifted or I shall not be able to function efficiently, nor effectively."

Cid looked sharply at Vincent then, ignoring his claim that Cid didn't need to say anything. "I needed t'stay then. I needed to. I need to now, Vincent, and I always will. There's only tension now because you won't understand that I mean what I say, and this time I know what I'm talkin' about. If you push me away, all o' this is goin' t'hell, 'cause I can't take that. Not from you." He stared determinedly at Vincent, knowing that this attempt would succeed no better than the others, and that he would only create more tension between them.

"You are obsessed!" Vincent breathed, looking mildly horrified. "Cid, this could never work, and I do not know how to tell you 'no' without hurting you more than I wish to! I-" he was at a loss for any more words. And now he was trapped in his car without a way to escape, and was forced to deal with this. So he did the next best thing, and looked out the window as the traffic crept ever forward. "It could never work," he reiterated quietly.

_Obsessed?_ Cid wondered over the word and its implications for a while, trying to weigh whether or not Vincent had a point. At last, he shook his head and replied, "Not obsessed, Vincent. If you ever said no and really meant it, I'd back off as good as I can. But you know an' I know that there's somethin'. There must be, or you would never have asked me t'stay. Would never have played for me. Wouldn't've gotten so upset over it after it was all said and done. Maybe it won't ever work, but that doesn't mean we stop tryin'. That doesn't mean we don't give it a shot. An' it certainly doesn't mean that I stop feelin' for ya the way I do. This is just one more way I'm hopeless, I reckon," he finished, head resting against the back of the seat as he looked at Vincent.

"I can't do it." Vincent breathed, exhausted and resting his forehead against the steering wheel as traffic once again ground to a halt. "I just do not understand what you see. I _kill_ people for a living, Highwind. I rule by fear and intimidation, and now you ask of me the very things that in my line of work will make me lose my reputation, and my life. So I will ask you, one more time, for both our sakes: Let me go. Give up this hopeless infatuation, before one of us ends up dead."

"Please don't make me talk about it anymore now," Cid said quietly, voice audibly shaking. "I don't know how much more o' myself I c'n offer t'you t'day if I want anything left fer t'morra. Just know that I will not let you go. Not now and not ever, and I mean that more honestly than you know." He didn't expect Vincent to understand anymore; he was beyond looking for that and would now be satisfied with simple acceptance…and reciprocation, if luck was on his side. Today, it clearly was not, but he figured that was okay; luck needed to be with Elena today. "We have to find 'er, Vincent. She has t'be okay."

"We will find her," Vincent said firmly, if softly. Traffic was finally unclogging and their car eased by the wreck and moved on toward their destination. He was more than glad to drop this subject, but he was deeply regretful that Cid had to feel the way that he did, but in the long run it was for the best. They were both miserable, but they were at least alive. Their main concern now was finding this Elena. "What can you tell me about her? That might help us? We cannot go into this completely ignorant of their situation, and the more we know, the more effective our questioning will be."

Cid shook his head slowly. "I don't-" he stopped to clear his throat "-I don't know too much about 'er at all. Pretty little thing, short blond hair, kinda soft-spoken but real eager t'please…I really ain't talked to 'er all that much. Everything I know 'bout her situation b'fore was what she told me yest'y 'fore she left. He wasn't good to 'em, she left with th'kids, an'…I asked 'er who was puttin' 'er up in th'room, but she dodged th'question an' I didn't have th'heart t'interrogate 'er while she was so upset. Said she had somethin' t'settle with 'im, an' I figured she'd come back in bad condition…but I figured she'd come back. Y'know?"

"Yes, unfortunately I do. I have seen it too many times." Vincent said sadly. He pulled the car into a filled parking garage and killed the engine. He turned to Cid and said, "We walk from here on out. The part of town we shall be entering is…not a pleasant one, and I do not think that I am in the mood to deal with my car being jacked. Are you armed?" When Cid nodded, he continued, "Good. We will enter his apartment building first, that is where you shall come in. The less I say there the better, and you look nondescript enough that you will get away with asking the necessary questions. People will simply think that you are some buddy this fellow met in the bar." He hesitated, gazing into Cid's rugged and lined face, aged too much for his years, before slipping on his dark glasses and continuing solemnly, "You have skills, Highwind, instincts – I would be a fool indeed not to acknowledge them. You could not have survived as long as you have, if you did not have them. Trust them now. You blend in; you are one of these people, whereas I stand out…painfully so. I have your back, just focus on asking your questions, and trust me to keep you safe. We are in this together, everything in the past is forgotten, and everything in the future put on hold. We will find this woman and reunite her with her children. We will end this, all right?"

Cid blinked, confused (and rightly so, he thought) at Vincent's sudden…optimism, before saying slowly, "All…right." Reassured despite the oddness of the situation, Cid nodded firmly and repeated, "All right. Y're right." Cid didn't like that Vincent knew exactly where this guy might be; it promised that this "Spike" character was no good. "Vincent, I- I don't really know what t'do. I've never been anything but a screw-up when it comes t'shit like this," he said, eyes searching the streets for unsavory characters, of which he found a multitude, "an' I really don't like this place too much."

Vincent chuckled as he climbed out of the car, shutting the door and hitting the alarm. He walked around to the trunk and waited for Cid to join him, then together they began walking down the street that would take them into a neighborhood that Vincent would not go into alone, even if he lost a bet. "I should hope not, if you did I would seriously question your sanity, along with mine for associating with you. My advice to you now is to keep to your own business here. Do not make eye contact unless you are supremely confident that you will win the fight that you inevitably trigger. I spent a lot of time in neighborhoods like this early on. In point of fact, I picked up Rude from one of these neighborhoods." He fell silent as they continued to walk. His nerves grew tighter as the streets began to grow more cluttered, and there were fewer and fewer people out on them. Vincent could feel eyes watching them from alleyways and windows, and he made a small show of flexing his gauntlet in a way that caught the random, stray rays of sun, which caused the metal to glint maliciously. The fewer people they ran into, the better off they would be, and silent shows of dangerous intent spoke heavier, and meant more than any speech could. "Keep calm, Cid." Vincent breathed so only the cop could hear as he fell slightly behind the man, but still remained close. "We are being followed, but that is to be expected. Strangers here attract more attention than magnets attract metal. Up ahead, do you see that run-down brick building? Head for that, and do not look back. The man's apartment should be there. Just focus upon getting through the front door."

"Right," Cid answered, but it was hard to stay calm in a place like this. The buildings seemed to become darker, uglier, and more dilapidated as they continued, and the atmosphere only grew heavier. Cid could feel eyes on him and he prayed they were Vincent's; anyone else watching them would be suspicious of their being here. Cid was a stranger here, and the locals likely knew that, but Vincent, by his own admission, stood out even further. He was seized with a sudden certainty that someone would try to take Vincent from him for malicious purposes, and was very glad for Vincent's ability to defend himself. He also realized what a disaster it would be for the name "Valentine" to be mentioned, and he wished they had discussed aliases in the car. He stretched his arms above his head and sighed, hoping the gesture looked natural and was not some signal for something and…he sighed again as he realized he was making himself crazy letting his thoughts chase each other in circles. Creativity, too, seemed to escape him as he searched for a name to give in place of his own and could come up with none that did not already belong to people he knew. The feeling of being watched had lessened somewhat, but he thought that was probably due more to Vincent's presence than the fact that whoever had been following them had ceased doing so. Their destination now loomed in front of them, and Cid had to fight the urge to open the door for Vincent as they stepped inside.

Once the door to the apartment complex shut behind them, Vincent relaxed. He tapped Cid on the shoulder and after checking the lobby for any unwanted listeners he leaned in close to the cop and said softly, "Okay, well done. Now we are both flying blind. There should be a directory and mailboxes somewhere here in the lobby, but I doubt very much that we would be lucky enough that this man would put "Spike" as his listed name if that is the one he goes by on the street. But then again stranger things have happened. In the all likely event that has _not_ occurred, then we begin by questioning someone from each floor. If this fellow is as nefarious as he sounds, then _someone _will have heard of him. Loyalties are thin, and easily broken here if complete anonymity can be guaranteed. We just need to come off as the greater of two evils to cross if the information we seek is not provided."

Cid, looking grim, nodded and the two of them moved into the lobby. Vincent found the directory and while "Spike" was not listed, Elena's name was: fourth floor, apartment 417. Without another word spoken, the two men moved as one, Cid just ahead of Vincent, as they made quick work of climbing the four flights of dirty, cluttered stairs. Once an elderly woman opened her door to set out a bag of garbage, saw their grim faces, and hastily shut her door again. Vincent had to chuckle. If he had a gil for every time that had happened to him, he could retire and take Cid with him. Finally they came to apartment 417. Vincent stood to the side, keeping an eye on the other doors as well as the stairwell while Cid raised his large fist, and knocked loudly three times.

There was a muttered, "Yeah, yeah, hold yer chocobos, I'm comin'" before the stained and cracked door was yanked open to reveal a heavy-set man whose gut was just as thick as his arms were. He looked at Cid for a second, dull brown eyes going wide in sudden fear, before he slammed the door in Cid's face, and they both could hear furniture being overturned and ceramics breaking. They looked at each other for a heartbeat before Vincent swung around, and leant his shoulder to Cid's as they both crashed against the feeble door, and knocked the thing in…for probably the last time the poor hinges could withstand. Across the living room, they saw the open window with its stained and torn curtains fluttering in the sudden breeze, and the fire escape beyond. "Cid! The fire escape!" Vincent shouted, shoving Cid into the apartment gently while he bolted back out the front door and hit the stairs, stopping halfway down each to swing over the banister and drop down to the next flight of stairs. If he was quick enough he could head the man off at the bottom.

Cid snorted in amusement at the feeling of a bad movie drama this scene evoked as he tore after the idiot. He wondered if wishing that the guy had fallen down the fire escape made him a terrible person, then decided that it hardly mattered. The escape seemed, unsurprisingly, very unstable and not likely to hold up much longer, but it held long enough for Cid to get down it. By the time he'd reached the ground, he was breathing hard – impromptu physical activity hadn't been on his schedule recently- and "Spike" was turning the corner of the building. The panting was due partly to the running, partly to the fear of falling off the damned rickety escape, but mostly to the exhilaration of being on a chase. He'd even broken down a door, something he'd never been required to do before, and was only a little disappointed that it wasn't for his actual job. This was better, really, since he cared more about Elena and the kids than about pleasing Scarlet and Palmer. Speaking of them, he had completely neglected to report in today, but he'd deal with that later. He turned the corner a few seconds behind the other man, and was gaining on him as Vincent came back into sight from the other direction. Without warning, Spike took a sharp turn, and Cid, who hadn't anticipated it, was unable to do the same. Instead, he kept running and stopped just short of colliding with Vincent. Just short, that is of a Vincent who was still moving and who seemed not to have realized that Cid had stopped and was not running after Spike. Just as Cid caught sight of their target again and was preparing to begin the second part of the chase, Vincent skidded to a stop a little too near him, and they collided anyway. "Dammit!" Cid shouted as he attempted to keep his footing while also keeping Vincent upright. Finally they were both steady again, and Cid pulled Vincent by the hand in the direction he'd seen Spike take.

"Y're faster'n I am," he said, huffing, "so don't wait on me if I slow ya up. He went thataway," he finished, pointing to an alley behind the next building. They started after their quarry again, Cid constantly a few feet behind Vincent but keeping up fairly well despite his recent lack of exercise. The alley turned into another one, this one running perpendicular to the nearest street, and they could only assume that he had run further into the shadows; a few moments of advancing in that direction proved them right as they spotted Spike slumping to catch a breath before picking up running again.

"We got 'im," Cid said to himself. "Right? He's bound t'just pass out sooner'r later." He followed Vincent, knowing that he himself would have given up the chase long ago if this had been about Palmer. He hoped that Elena, wherever she was, was still okay and in a condition good enough to greet her children when they got home.

Vincent didn't waste his breath with a reply, saving it instead for the chase. They would find out sooner, he hoped, rather than later, but that hope was dashed when he saw Spike duck into a warehouse. "Dammit," he grunted and pulled Cid to a stop just outside the door the man had disappeared through. They were in a shipping district, close to the wharf, if his nose was informing him correctly. And these warehouses were notorious as places to hide. This would prove problematic for the hunters, and beneficial to the hunted. He withdrew Quicksilver from the waistband of his pants, and saw Cid do the same with his own weapon, appearing from his shoulder holster. "Be careful. I do not like this, but I think perhaps it might be better if we split up. Keep to the shadows if you can. I shall take the right side and you the left, and we will meet in the middle." Cid nodded, and the two men slipped inside.

Moving easily amongst the large crates and hanging chains, Vincent made no sound as he progressed, and his eyes quickly became accustomed to the darkness after he removed his glasses to place them into an inside pocket of his vest. He strained his other senses for evidence of the prey, but only picked up the smell of oil, dirt, diesel fuel and the distant, rancid odor of decaying fish. His ears weren't much more help; he could hear the scratching of rats as they ran for cover, and the occasional loud flapping of pigeons as they were startled into flight. Outside, he could distantly hear the calling of seabirds. He could distinctly make out Highwind's progress, and from the sound of it, he could precisely place the man within the vast building. It wasn't as though the cop was being loud, rather Vincent's hearing was sharp…unnaturally so. What had him worried was that he couldn't hear Spike, and he simply could not believe that the man was _that_ skilled at being silent, which meant that he was lying in wait for one of them.

What happened next was the closest thing Vincent had ever had to an out-of-body experience. As he rounded a corner, he had a clear view of Cid making his slow way parallel to him, gun outstretched before him, and the next thing he knew there was a loud 'pop' and he saw Cid spin around to slam back into the metal wall of the warehouse with an equally loud and reverberating 'bang'. Slowly the cop slid down the wall, leaving a bloody trail behind as he sank to the floor. The feeling of all the blood leaving his face and his heart stop was something new and alien to Vincent, and it was a feeling he did not like. Leaping over crates and tools, he fired off several return shots in the direction the first shots had come from, to give himself some cover, and slid to a stop, falling to his knees at Cid's side.

The cop was panting and sweating, his blue eyes squeezed shut as obvious pain contorted his rugged and handsome features. "No!" Vincent breathed, moving to straddle Cid's thighs, and begin to push the cop's suit jacket off of his shoulders. Weakly, Cid tried to push at Vincent's hands, protesting that he was "all right", but Vincent just batted his hands out of the way. Jacket pushed back, he began unbuttoning Cid's shirt and it too went the way of the jacket, down the man's thick biceps, revealing a t-shirt that was slowly becoming saturated with blood. He assessed the damage: shoulder wound, he reached behind the man's body, which earned him a grunt and a wince, but also revealed an exit wound, but from the placement of the wound and the amount of blood he ascertained that Cid's scapula was damaged. "Fuck!" Vincent bit out, and reached down to rip a wide swath from Highwind's t-shirt. That earned him a muttered curse to which he replied sourly, "Bill me", then proceeded to bind Cid's shoulder as best he could until proper medical treatment could be sought out.

That done, he put both hands on Cid's face, taking exquisite care not to inflict further damage from his gauntlet. Cid's blue eyes, clouded by pain, met his own, and Vincent fought a sudden surge of fear. Fear borne from the knowledge that just several inches over and he could have lost Cid. But what disturbed him the most was the sudden and feral swell of lust he felt rip through is body. The warmth from Highwind's body rose up to meet his own, and the result of which sank down into his groin. He should have been horrified that the man's pain caused this reaction in him, but the combination of adrenaline, fear and the sheer proximity of the other man's body to his own had him wanting those big, strong hands on his body…more specifically on his crotch, which was becoming increasingly more rigid behind the tight confines of his leathers. As a result, his legs opened more, and dropped him more fully upon Cid's thighs, and quite on its own his mouth sunk closer to Cid's until their lips were only a hairs-breadth away from touching. His breathing was coming in pants now too, only these were pants not borne from pain, but from _wanting_, from desire. "Cid, I…" he breathed. He needed to be closer, to touch, to _be _touched, claimed, owned, fucked…and dare he hope for it but, loved. Cid had been right, there _was_ something there, and he had been too damned blind to see it.

"Ha-ha! Gotcha, didn't I, copper! Now all I gotta do is get yer girlfriend, and I'm outta here!" came a cackling voice from above them and to the right, causing Vincent to jump and pull back just before he could seal their mouths together, and so seal the potential for _some_ kind of future. He pulled back, more than a little chagrined at his grossly untimely display of affection.

"I'll be right back. Don't move," he said softly, and with a last, gentle stroke to Cid's cheek pulled away from the fallen cop. He had some unfinished business to attend to. It was no longer _just _a quest to find Elena…it was personal.

The initial shock of being shot had sent Cid's mind as well as his body reeling, and he hardly noticed slamming against the wall. The first sign that something was wrong had been Vincent's rushing to him; why was he abandoning their plan? Cid was fine; he'd just tripped…or something…right? The pain hit him all at once as he realized what had happened. He gasped when he tried to examine the wound himself, and again when Vincent knelt down in front of –no, on him. He patiently sat through Vincent's "band-aid" application, and had almost immediately picked up on the desire coming off Vincent's body in waves. He had wanted so badly to return it, but by the time he'd had the idea to act, the moment was too intense. He risked ruining it if he moved, so he just kept looking, drowning in that look he'd never seen on Vincent's face before. The pain became irrelevant with Vincent so close to him, so close to giving in once and for all, and Cid was certain that they were going to make love right here as soon as their lips met. They never did meet, and as the pain came back and mingled with the lightheadedness and desire, Cid became confused all over again.

He hadn't heard Spike's declaration, and had no idea why Vincent was leaving him. His uninjured arm lifted to reach after Vincent as he choked out, "Don't leave me," but Vincent was gone. Despite having been told not to move, Cid struggled to stand, wincing and gasping again as he absentmindedly tried to use both arms to raise himself. When he finally did make it to his feet, he found that he was dizzy even though Vincent had effectively slowed the blood loss. He sat instead on a large crate nearby; it would be easier to get up from there. He'd be going after Vincent in a few minutes, anyway, he decided as he settled against the wall.

Pushing Cid, and the cop's condition, out of his mind, Vincent focused upon the task at hand: apprehending Spike. Since the cop had been shot, the man had become more confident, and in effect, more careless. Standing deep in the shadows, Vincent shut his eyes and used his keen sense of hearing to pinpoint Spike's location, and when the man quit moving, apparently to 'lie in wait' again, he lips slid apart in an evil grin. _You are mine, _he thought with finality.

With great care he slowly closed a circuitous route until he came up behind the man where he lay atop a large stack of crates. Crouching in the rafters above Spike, it took all of Vincent's self-control not to just kill him outright. Instead he dropped noiselessly to the crates behind the man, and when Spike learned of his presence, it was too late. He buried the muzzle of Quicksilver in the man's back, growled in one hairy ear, "Nighty-night," and brought his fisted gauntlet down against the man's skull, knocking him clean out. He then effortlessly draped the man's body over his shoulder, and leapt down from the stack of crates to make his way over to Cid, and dumped the body at the cop's feet. "Sorry it took me so long," he said quietly.

"Y'came back," Cid murmured happily, honestly a little surprised. Vincent hadn't really been gone all that long, and Cid had somewhat expected to be left alone much longer. He was about to ask if Vincent had killed the guy, but noticed that the chest of the body on floor was moving in a way that indicated breathing. Cid didn't want him to wake up; didn't want to have to deal with this anymore, but he knew he had to. With a little more strength than he had possessed when Vincent had left him, Cid kicked at the unconscious man's leg. If this had to go on, he wanted it to end as soon as possible so he could take Vincent home and finish what they'd almost started. "C'mon, y'ijit. Wake up so I c'n go home," he said, standing up slowly.

"Easy, Highwind," Vincent murmured gently. "When he wakes up, he shall be at a distinct advantage over you. Come," he said, hefting the body over his shoulder again. "We need some rope and a chair before I am willing to turn you loose on him." He waited until Cid proved that he was steady on his feet before he led his wounded friend towards the back office he had seen, snagging a coil of rope that was laying on a crate, on the way. Once he broke open the door, he thumped the man down onto an office chair and securely bound his arms and legs, before stepping into the corner to fill up a paper cup full of tepid water from the large jug there. He then splashed the contents into Spike's face, before melting back into the shadows as the man groaned and slowly came to. He would step in only if Cid signaled him to do so.

Cid scooted another chair over to sit a few feet in front of Spike. When the other man woke up completely, Cid grinned widely at him and leaned in. "Hey there. Hope you realize what a shitty situation y're in right now." Vincent's presence comforted Cid more than he should have allowed it to, but it was comforting nonetheless, and without it, he doubted he would have been able to affect the carefree attitude he was attempting to project. "Me an' you got a couple things t'clear up. First thing's this- y'ever call m'man a girl again, I'mma let 'im do more'n just knock you out. Understand? Second thing's this- Where's Elena? You better tell me quick an' honest, too, 'cause I ain't gonna fuck around with ya no longer'n I have to." Cid's head was hurting, and that was one of the quickest ways to make him irritable. It certainly seemed to be doing so now.

"Fuck you, cop…'n fuck yer pussy-ass girlfriend too," Spike spat out, and leered at Cid. "Fuckin' lame-ass excuse fer a cop, I think ya got shot on purpose s' you can dress 'er up in a nurse outfit." And he burst out laughing at his own humor.

Shaking his head, Cid said, "What the hell was that sweet girl doin' around you? God, an' the kids… You even realize what a fuckin' idiot you are? Coulda just stayed still an' answered our questions an' none o' this woulda been necessary. We wouldn't'a messed up yer operations or whatever th'hell illegal shit y'got goin' on. There ain't no cop here. We just want Miss Elena back. I'll tell ya what. You get one more chance t'answer me. I ain't up fer dealin' with somebody as stupid as you right now, but I bet he is," he said, jerking his head in Vincent's direction. "So if you wanna walk outta here with all yer limbs attached, I'd say you oughta answer me right now."

"An I tell ya again, _cop_…Fuck. You." Spike said, glaring at Cid. "Ya think I'm scared o' yer girlfriend? That bitch ain't even worth my time, or those brats she calls kids…th' little pieces o' shit ain't even mine, thank th'gods fer that. Waste o' fuckin' space th' both of 'em."

"Yeah, I bet they're glad too," Cid said, before turning to Vincent. "You don't know how much I regret havin' t'do this. I kept hopin' maybe you was a reasonable guy, just scared, but it's startin'a look like that just ain't gonna be th'case." As an afterthought to the throb in his shoulder, Cid leaned forward and spat in the guy's face. "That's from me. I'll leave th'rest up t'him. B'lieve me, y'll be afraid of 'im soon enough." Cid's eyes were sad as he turned them on Vincent's and shook his head, indicating that he had gotten nothing and had no idea how else to approach it with a guy this stubborn. "Take it away, babe," he said with a flourish of his uninjured arm, and left the chair to sit on the desk with his back to the scene. He knew he would not want to see what ensued when Vincent began wearing down Spike's resolve.

Vincent had watched the whole scene with a kind of sick humor. The fact that he was referred to as a woman didn't bother him. He had been called far worse, and had learned over time to not let words hurt him. But what Spike had said about Elena and the children…that had struck a chord in him deep down, and kindled a familiar black rage. He knew this type of scum, had dealt with them too often, and as a result knew the only kind of persuasion they responded to. Secretly he had hoped that Spike would have answered Cid, but he knew that would never be the case. Men like this tromped over the good people in the world, and it took policing by the even worse to keep this ilk in line. He waited a while in silence, until Spike began to squirm from anticipation before he said softly, "I wish you would not have to see this. Would you not consider stepping outside?"

As much as he hated to admit it, Cid was almost afraid to step outside. He was not certain that no one else had been informed of his and Vincent's presence, and was not sure if he was willing to take the risk of being attacked again. If he were completely honest with himself, he just didn't want to leave the room without Vincent. He considered for a few more moments, stretching out the tension again as he debated what to do. "I'm better off in here with you than out there without ya. Y'know nothin' y'do'll make me think any less of ya. I won't look, though, an' I'll plug m'ears as best I can. That all right?"

"As you wish," Vincent murmured sadly, "but you shall think differently of me when I am finished here."

"Wha-What're ya talking ab-AHHHHH" Spike screamed as there was a sickening crack of bone as Vincent broke Spike's bound forearm effortlessly. "What th' fuck, man!" Spike sobbed, "Ya broke my fuckin' arm!"

"Yes, I did," Vincent said pleasantly, moving around to stand in front of Spike and look down at him mildly. "And I shall break much more than just your arm if you do not start telling us what we want to know. Now, where is the girl?"

"I dunno what yer talkin' about!" Spike wailed, then screamed again as Vincent broke Spike's other arm, shaking his head.

"Yes, Spike, I think you do." Vincent said. "You see, whereas my friend here does not like to hurt people, if he can help it, I have no such qualms. In fact, I do it for a living. You are a blight to humanity; a cancer living off of the good people of this city, much like myself, and it is nothing to me to cut you out of existence. Now," he said smoothly, standing firmly in front of Spike and staring down at the man with his arms crossed over his chest, one metal-clad finger tapping a patient rhythm on his bicep. "Where is Elena?"

Spike blinked bleary, mud-colored eyes up at Vincent, and met a lava-colored gaze, and then it hit him just who this man was. There was only one person in Midgar who had those colored eyes, and it occurred to Spike that he was well and truly fucked. "Yer-yer Vincent Valentine!"

Vincent sighed patiently, looking bored. "Now I do not know if your sudden surge of intelligence should make me feel better or horrify me. Yes, I am, but it does you no favor to avoid my question. Now, I shall ask you one more time, before I use more pain: Where. Is. Elena?"

"He-he said he needed a girl…" Spike blurted.

Vincent nodded slowly. "That is a good start, Spike, but please…don't stop there."

"He said, if I brought 'im a girl, then e'd ferget my debts, said e'd make 'em go away. S' I figured, Elena's pretty enough, so I brung him her," Spike finished.

Vincent nodded again. "Okay, so where did you bring Elena?"

"I don't remember!" Spike said pleadingly.

"Hn," Vincent said reaching out, and placing a bladed finger at the neck of Spike's dirty T-shirt. "I bet I could _make_ you remember."

Spike began to squirm at the proximity of the wicked-looking metal to his skin. "H-h-honest, man! I swear I don't remember!"

With a savage jerk, Vincent ripped the man's shirt down the front, exposing flabby, hairy flesh, and cutting a thin trail as it went. He lifted his lip in a disgusted sneer. "One too many beers there, Spike. Now, where did you take Elena?"

"I-I-I…" Spike stammered, watching Vincent's clawed hand.

"Quickly now, Spike! We haven't got all day," Vincent rushed the man.

"Warehouse!" Spike blurted.

"Warehouse _where_?" Vincent asked, patience beginning to run out, and he let his tone of voice reflect that.

"Not far from here, shipping to the upper plate, th'far end o' Loveless Avenue!" Spike said.

Vincent froze. He knew that address, and knew it well. "When!" he barked.

"I don't…_grk_…" Spike's eyes bulged as Vincent stabbed two fingers into the man's abdomen.

"No more games, Spike," Vincent hissed impatiently. "When did you deliver the girl, who demanded her and why."

"Just t-today…" Spike groaned, gurgling as blood oozed out of the corner of his mouth. He cried out weakly as Vincent jerked his fingers up, parting the man's flesh to expose adipose tissue and muscle. "Early t-today, somethin' about needin' girls fer a b-brothel. It was s-some redhead freak with a long red leather coat…never tol' me 'is name. I SWEAR!" Spike screamed again as Vincent savagely tore his gauntleted fingers from the man's body, then promptly placed both hands on either side of Spike's head, and with a savage twisting motion snapped the man's neck, putting an end to the gurgling breaths. Calmly, he grasped the tattered ends of the man's t-shirt and thoroughly wiped the gore from his gauntlet.

"Time to leave, Mr. Highwind." Vincent said softly, removing his dark glasses from his vest pocket, and placing them once again his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number other than Tseng's. "I need a cleanup down on the wharf of district 9, warehouse 5, back office…thank you, and please be discreet, Reno." After he hung up, he said, finding that he was unable to meet Cid's eyes for fear of finding a horrified stare, "Reno will take care of the mess, and retrieve any surveillance that _might_ have been collected. We need to move to Loveless Avenue. Are you all right to continue? Or shall I go on alone."

"I'm gonna come with ya, o' course," was the answer. He'd gone longer periods of time with worse injuries than this –he thought- and he wasn't going to leave the rest of the work for Vincent when this was an errand Cid had had to drag him into in the first place. "Hey," Cid called quietly before Vincent reached the door. "Come 'ere, Vincent." Vincent did come, hesitantly, but it was good enough for Cid, who stepped forward and placed his good hand on Vincent's cheek. They looked at each other for a long moment while Cid's thumb brushed the skin at the corner of Vincent's mouth. His only regret at the moment was that his shoulder was hurting too badly for him to even attempt to raise the other hand; he would have loved to have Vincent's face in both hands right now just to emphasize the point he was trying to make. He leaned in and kissed Vincent, not nearly the way they would have kissed earlier had they not been interrupted, but it was a the best he could give with the current mood. "I still love you every bit as much as I did earlier t'day, if not more. Okay? Believe me when I say that."

Vincent actually managed a weak smile, which he failed to feel. "If you say so, Cid." He turned away and opened the door, his voice flat and lifeless. "If you say so." They didn't speak as they headed back out of the neighborhood, and toward where they left the car. The ride to Loveless Avenue was just as quiet. There was tension again between them, but a different kind now that Vincent was more disquieted with. He could no longer deny a physical attraction to Cid Highwind, but how did he _feel_ towards the man? He wasn't entirely sure, and that unsettled him. He shook his head and shoved the thought away. They had to find Elena, and besides, he had a more pressing and worrying issue: the warehouse. Nearly any other warehouse, and it would not have bothered him but… "Cid," he said as he deftly navigated traffic, concern coloring his voice. "I'm worried about the location that Spike gave us."

"Why's that, Vince?" Cid asked simply, too distracted by myriad circumstances to realize that he had chopped an entire syllable off Vincent's name. He stared out the window, forcing himself not to imagine how the day would have ended if Spike had just kept his mouth shut after shooting Cid.

Vincent shot Cid a quick glare, but chose to let the slip go in favor of the more pressing issue of the moment. "I _own_ that warehouse."

* * *

Anyone else want to knock Vincent upside the head?


	18. Chapter 18

Sorry it was late...everything's been a bit of a rush lately for both of us. Speaking of, updates over the next month or so are going to be **_slow, _** if we don't just call a complete hiatus. I will let you know if that happens, but for now...just slow.

* * *

"That's…shit. That ain't good. That really ain't good." Cid slumped against his seat and returned to the old habit of massaging his temples after removing his glasses. "An' I s'pose you ain't rentin' it out t'anybody or nothin'."

"That would make things easier, wouldn't it?" Vincent said, chewing on his lower lip. Normally it would be Tseng he would be discussing such things with, but Tseng was not here, so Highwind got that dubious pleasure. Later he would reflect upon the ease with which he discussed this with the cop, but at the moment, he had bigger things to worry about. "No, currently that warehouse is standing empty. Do you know who Spike was referring to when he said 'the redhead with long red coat'?" He glanced quickly over Cid, who was looking alarmingly pale. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Never heard o' nobody with a long red coat, no. Don't know any redheads, either, I- oh, wait, unless it's that one guy Lazard mentioned once…Rhapsodos? Is that right? I don't really recollect it so perfect right now…" Vincent's stare had turned a bit worried, and Cid realized that he had never answered the last question. He smiled bravely. "Yeah, m'all right. Just real tired all over. Gettin' shot's a new one fer me," he said, laughing weakly. "Can't let you have all th'fun, can I?" _I really shoulda gone home. I'm only gonna slow 'im up. _

Vincent nodded. "Genesis Rhapsodos, narcissistically calling himself 'The Red General', runs the upper plate, and is the eternal thorn in my side." He said with a growl. "He has been making encroachments onto my turf ever since I began running for ShinRa. He has some nerve making a pickup in one of my buildings." He pulled the car into the semi-filled parking lot of a bank that was several blocks from his warehouse. After killing the engine, he once again turned to Highwind. "Cid, if you do not feel up to this, I understand and do not hold it against you if you remain here; however, I do not lie when I admit that having your company puts me at considerable ease."

Cid only smiled again and nodded, saying, "I wanna come with ya. I dunno if I'll be much help, but I'll be there. Vincent?"

Vincent nodded, and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Laughing softly and shaking his head, Cid said, "Mm- nothin'. Never mind. Let's go," and began attempting to wrench open his door, only succeeding after managing to look like an idiot for quite some time.

Vincent reached out and stilled Cid's movement with a hand on the cop's shoulder before the man could exit the car. "I would know what you have on your mind before we do this, Cid." He said softly.

Cid winced; Vincent's hand was on his injured shoulder, and he had anticipated the touch to be heavier than it was. "I can't right now. S'too much," he said sadly, looking at Vincent and hoping that somehow his eyes would convey all that his words could not. "But…wouldja kiss me b'fore we go? Just in case," he near-pleaded, suddenly finally feeling the fear that had threatened to come when Vincent had asked him to step outside earlier. He couldn't remember feeling this frightened since the first year of his time living on the streets, and he wondered whether he was worried about himself or about Vincent.

Perplexed at the request, and concerned at what he saw in Cid's eyes he briefly considered turning the man down, but in the end it was what he saw in those blue eyes that had him do the opposite. Slowly he got out of the car, shutting the door and walking around the hood, he crouched down to face the cop as the man continued to sit in the car. "What is this look in your eyes, Cid?" He asked softly, leaning forward to rest his knees against the bottom of the car doorframe and taking Cid's pale face in his hands. "You speak as though I would allow death to take one of us, and that I will not allow, not while there is much we must resolve between us. Think no more of it." And he leaned forward to gently capture Cid's lips with his own. It was an easy kiss, lacking the fiery passion he had felt earlier, but it was far from distant or cold. "Come," he stood up, and held his hand out Cid, "let us do this."

Cid took Vincent's hand and squeezed it tightly for as long as he thought was appropriate, murmuring, "Vincent," contentedly when that hand came to rest on his face briefly. "Come," Vincent said again, and Cid stood and followed him, closing the door with a well-aimed kick. Whatever happened here would happen, and Cid could do nothing about it except hope for the best and work to prevent further accidents. All he knew was that if he had his way, he and Vincent would leave this warehouse together and return with Elena…whom they would quickly shoo into her own apartment along with her children. The fingers of his left hand were beginning to go a bit numb, which he figured was probably not good, but he could do nothing about that at the moment either. He clamped down on the pain, fear, anxiety, and hatred for the majority of mankind as they headed toward Vincent's stolen warehouse.

They had to be careful as they made their way down the much more crowded Loveless Avenue. Vincent took great pains to hide his gauntlet between the two of them to avoid attracting unwanted attention. As they approached the end of the street, and subsequently the warehouse, he hissed and drew Cid into an alley just up from the building. "Look," he murmured, poking his head around the corner as he gestured with his chin to the three parked cars in front of the warehouse. "That enormous white monstrosity is ShinRa's, and I can only assume that the garish red one is Rhapsados's, but whose is the third? Do you recognize it?"

"Scarlet's," Cid mumbled, and for some reason had to fight the urge to laugh. The entire scene struck him as funny, but he knew the seriousness of it, so he bit back the chuckles that fought to escape. "Wait…wait just a second. So they're all here t'gether? Shit, I knew they was talkin' an' whatnot, but I wouldn't ever've thought they were meetin' t'gether, much less on your property. So, uh, how d'we get 'in? I reckon none of 'em's gonna be all too eager t'see either of us." _An' if that bastard lays s'much as a hand on you_… Cid mentally growled, thought trailing off as he considered all the unpleasant things he wanted to do to Shinra.

"No, I imagine they would not." Vincent agreed sourly. "This way." He led, and Cid followed close behind as he made his way down the side of the warehouse. The situation had just turned critical. He too knew that Scarlet and Rufus had been corresponding, but what he _didn't_ know was that apparently those correspondences also had included Genesis. That did not bode well for him. "There." He said pointing to a window towards the roof. "That is our best way in." He walked over to a closed dumpster and waited for Cid, who just watched in incredulity for a moment before swallowing and walking over. "I will help you." Vincent murmured reassuringly. "Something tells me that you will want to hear what is being said here." He offered his linked hands, and Cid stepped into them. Lifting Cid's weight easily he leapt up after the cop, and the two men proceeded in such a fashion until they reached the window by way of the brick half-wall that ran between the warehouse and the building next door. Vincent was careful as he slid a blade of his gauntlet between the lock and windowsill until he heard a 'click', and the window swung open with a quiet squeak.

Pulling himself up briefly with his arms, Vincent peeked inside to see a ledge wide enough to hold them both then dropped back down beside Cid. "You first, Highwind. Wait for me just inside the window; there is a ledge sufficient for us both." Cid nodded and Vincent heaved him up. After the cop had scrambled through the window, Vincent leapt up to catch the sill and pulled himself in after Cid. Once inside, Vincent shut the window and latched it so that it wouldn't bang, and alert anyone their presence. Motioning wordlessly to Cid, he crept slowly along the large steel beam until voices became audible.

"…expendable," came Rufus's bored voice.

Even in the midst of something so serious, Cid was impressed by Vincent's displays of strength and grace, and he shuddered as he watched Vincent leaping so easily to heights Cid could not have reached on his own. Once they were inside, he forced his mind to focus on the matter at hand.

"So you seem to think," replied another voice, and Cid could only assume it belonged to Rhapsodos. "But I beg you reconsider."

Scarlet's laugh broke through the quiet next, grating on Cid's ears. "Now, now, don't the two of you carry your little lover's spat into business, hm?"

"I assure you, madam," Genesis said coldly, "that this is no lover's spat. I can do much better than _that_." He turned back to Rufus and continued, "Everything is working now as it should. Can we really call any part of it expendable?"

"Every part but Highwind," Scarlet cut in. "But then, he's never been anything but expendable."

"Ah, but he's necessary!" the redhead insisted, then returned to the topic he had actually been discussing. "We can't cut Corneo. Everyone knows his name and his business. Yes, he's more than a little greedy when it comes to his cut of the money, but we have enough to spare if it keeps him happy and quiet and functioning as we plan."

Cid, flustered at being called expendable, started to mutter curses under his breath and then realized that he needed to be silent. He hunkered down onto the beam to get a better grip and turned to Vincent to make sure that he could hear as well.

Vincent met Cid's gaze and nodded, angling his head towards the conversation, indicating that he could hear what was being said. He could just make out the blond-headed figure of ShinRa, the woman Scarlet, and Genesis, leaning against a pillar and fondling the hilt of…he groaned silently. _What is it with people and swords?_ He thought in irritation, but snapped back to attention when Rufus spoke up next.

"And only _you_ would think that I would lower myself to bedding that…lunatic!" Rufus spat at Scarlet, then grumbled, "I want Valentine gone. I get the feeling he is just playing with me…"

"That is because he _is_ playing with you," growled a new voice, deep and ominous like an approaching thunderstorm, from a corner neither he nor Cid could see into. Vincent shuddered as a cold spike of fear dragged its nails down his spine. He knew that voice. Azul the Cerulean. _But why is Azul here? He's with the Syndicate…unless the Syndiate is in on this. No, that makes no sense. Weiss and Nero would not do something like this. They dislike Rhapsodos nearly as much as I do, especially since Genesis has cheated them out of…_his thoughts trailed off as realization set in. Azul was going behind the Syndicate's back! To say that Weiss and Nero would not be pleased, would be giving a suicidal understatement.

"What do you mean by that?" Rufus snapped.

"I mean, that Valentine is playing you _all_ for fools. Even you, Rhapsados." Azul chuckled. "I say give him back to this Hojo, and be done with him. Sounds to me like Hojo would be more than pleased to get his little 'pet' back. But…" Azul's voice trailed off in a growl. "That would leave you all in an unenviable position, as it Valentine that is keeping this whole thing together, is it not?" The ground very nearly shook as the massive, hulking beast of a man slowly materialized from the shadows and into view.

"Why you…" Rufus snarled, lunging at Azul, only to be stopped by the point of Rhapsodos's sword pointing at his chest.

"Stop. Just stop. Sit down, you foolish man. Now," Genesis said, sheathing his sword and beginning to pace, "what you're saying is that Valentine is essential. We know this. If you know something we do not, you ought to tell us all you know rather than taunting us with useless scraps of information."

"I agree," cut in Scarlet. "If you want our support, give us yours as well. Tell us what it is you know that we do not." Cid could hear the defiant tremor in her voice; he knew that sound well. She was frightened by this other man, but the very qualities that inspired her fear excited her. Here was a man she could use if only she could find out how to manipulate him.

"Hah! I merely state what is obvious!" Azul said, beginning to prowl restlessly before turning to Genesis. "It is either one way or another with you. You say that _I _am not being forthcoming…I think it is _you_ who is not telling us everything."

"What is he talking about, Rhapsodos?" Rufus asked suspiciously. "What do _you_ know about Valentine?"

Disgusted, Genesis sat and glared at all of them. "I know nothing that I do not share. Shinra, would you truly listen to this man over me? He has only just joined us today; what do we know of him? You have my word that anything of relevance that reaches my ears soon reaches yours." Truthfully, his word was not worth very much, but Shinra didn't know that.

"If we can all settle down," Scarlet said shrilly, "there are still matters to attend to. Old business- the girl is waiting to be transported. And Rhapsodos, please. Wait to conduct your business with Corneo until you're quite done meeting with us." Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the very thought of being compared to such scum as the kind of man who ran that dreaded whorehouse. "New business- have we decided how to eliminate the president?" She looked around at her associates, wondering how such great minds could be so petty.

Cid would have laughed aloud if he could have heard her thoughts; clearly she had not looked into the proverbial mirror for quite some time.

Vincent frowned as he stared down at the quartet of trouble. He didn't believe a word out of Genesis' mouth. Anyone from the Syndicate did not just pull up roots and make a random road trip for the hell of it. ShinRa was out of his league, even the woman Scarlet had bigger balls than Rufus. At the mention of assassinating the president of Midgar, he leaned down even lower to the beam, to rest upon his belly.

"If anyone here knows death, it is I," Rufus said smoothly, his sheer arrogance making Vincent snort.

"Did you hear something?" Azul said suddenly, and the others hushed instantly.

Vincent and Cid both held their breaths and froze.

Genesis waved his hand to signal it was "nothing," and Rufus continued. "I think I have a way to relieve us of both of our problems. Scarlet, by your own admission, Highwind is dumber than that brick wall over there, yes?" At Scarlet's delighted laugh and nod, Rufus said, "I thought so. And stupid men can be easily manipulated. It would not surprise me if Valentine has him eating out of the palm of his hand right now…hells, he probably has the man begging to bend over for him. All we have to do is get the cop into the right position, and then have Valentine pull the trigger. The man's a crack shot after all…"

Rufus was silenced by Azul's bark of laughter. "Good plan! Now all we have to do is convince Valentine to kill the president of Midgar! Ask yourself why would he do that?"

"Uh…" Rufus said, looking momentarily confused.

Cid blinked several times, trying to process all the insults separately before finally catching the real point of the argument. They were going to frame him, Vincent included, for the assassination of Midgar's president. Caught off guard by the prospect that while he was loyal to Vincent, Vincent might have been playing him the entire time, Cid turned wounded eyes on the man he'd considered his friend.

Vincent completely missed Cid's hurt expression as he snarled savagely down at the four who would see them both destroyed in such a manner. Their laughter at his and Cid's expense drowned out the soft screeching of metal on metal as Vincent gouged small furrows in the beam with his gauntleted hand. How _dare_ they insinuate he would use someone like that! He used people, yes, but _never_ like that…particularly someone as innocent and good-natured as Highwind, whom he had indeed come to look upon as a friend. He may not have much left to his name, but he had his honor.

He was done here. He knew of their plan. As soon as he could manage it, he would send word to both the Syndicate and the Kisaragi's and set up a meeting of his own. It was time to collect his allies, and make what was going on here was known. Gesturing to Cid to follow him, he began to silently slither his way along the beam to the only place someone could hold a prisoner…yet another back office.

Cid followed silently, morosely, behind Vincent for several minutes before finally getting the thought that Vincent would not have brought him here, would not have allowed him to hear of this plan, if he intended to carry it out. Brightened by the realization, a noticeable spring returned to Cid's step. He knew they were searching for Elena, and by the sound of Scarlet's declaration, she was still alive and probably in decent condition. They entered the office quietly and found her much in the same situation Spike had been in, except that she also had her eyes and mouth covered. Cid removed the blindfold first before even waiting for an OK from Vincent, but he was glad for it; Elena calmed immediately upon seeing them. Now Cid turned to Vincent, wondering where they went from here and how they would get out, especially with an extra passenger.

Vincent was stunned at how sure of himself Cid was as he just walked right on into the office and over to Elena. As the two blonds turned questioning eyes on him, he heard the growling. Not human; this was definitely from an animal. Catching a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye, Vincent only just managed to shove Cid to the ground as a medium-sized dog leapt at the cop, intent on ripping out the man's throat. With the removal of its target, the dog's eyes latched onto Vincent, and it continued its leap onto him, which he managed to block with his gauntlet, the teeth closing on his metal-clad forearm with a metallic 'ting-ka-ting'. He reached out his right hand, wrapped his fingers around the animal's throat, and squeezed until with a dull snap its neck was crushed. With a muffled yelp, the animal was no more. Wearing a disgusted expression, Vincent tossed the corpse into a corner with a muttered, "Play dead", and knelt down next to the bound Elena. They didn't have much time now. There was no way that at least Azul did not hear that. "Can you run?" He asked the terrified woman.

Elena shook her head. "M-my legs hurt, I think they're asl- eeeeeeep!" she squeaked as Vincent snapped the rope binding her to the chair, and scooped her into his arms. They didn't have time to find out.

"Let us go now, Cid. I think it is safe to leave by at least the back door at this point, but it will mean a bit of a run to make it to the car." He was already slipping out of the office. Glancing up at the camera, and saw that at least it had been disconnected, and he sent a small prayer of gratitude to Odin that at least they had a chance of staying anonymous. "Move your feet, Highwind!" he hissed, and was out the door and into the alleyway, trusting the cop to keep up.

By the time they reached the car –and they did so without incident, luckily- Cid decided that he never wanted to run again as long as he lived. Vincent deposited Elena unceremoniously into the middle seating area, where she would have more room to get situated, and Cid climbed into the other side. He regretted not sitting up front with Vincent, but Elena's wrists were still bound to each other and she was shaking all over. He helped her into her seatbelt and then buckled his own, not sure why he was so concerned with using them when there were such greater problems at hand. "You all right, kid?" Cid asked, watching her squint at the sunlight.

"I- I guess. I will be. Cid, if you're here- the kids- ?"

Cid could see the panic trying to claw its way to the front of her mind, so he put it to rest quickly. "They've got the best protection they c'd have, save fer Vincent. Don't you worry, I wouldn't'a let nothin' happen to 'em. But I reckon y're in fer one hell of a lecture from that little Marlene."

Elena laughed shakily and then gasped. "Cid, you're bleeding!"

"I know it. Coulda been a lot worse. Almost was." He fell silent then, considering with great gravity what it meant that Vincent had saved his life twice in one day. They would discuss this later; Cid had dragged Vincent into this, and now owed him all a man could owe another.

Vincent didn't begin to relax until they were well away from Loveless Avenue. He was still jittery as hell, glancing repeatedly in the rearview mirror to check to see if they were being followed. Twice he was convinced that they were, and it took all of his self-control to keep from flooring the gas pedal. Just to be careful, he took a circuitous and time-consuming route back to Cid's apartment anyway until he was convinced that they were in fact safe, still electing to park several blocks away from their building.

That was not exactly how he would have done things, but what was done was done and it was only a waste of energy to dwell upon what could be changed. As they made their slow way back to the apartment building, he kept a wary eye on every car that passed, and every curious set of eyes that peered out of windows. "Elena," he said softly, and when the young woman turned questioning doe-brown eyes up at him he said, "I would be extremely careful leaving your home for a while after this. In point of fact, I would suggest that you stay with a friend for a while to keep the children safe. Even if we have not been discovered, you have made some very powerful enemies, one in particular whose pride will demand that he get you back."

Elena nodded, wondering who exactly she would stay with. She didn't have any friends at all; Spike had made sure of that, and she'd been with him long enough to lose touch with the ones she'd had before.

Cid, also seeing the problem, ran through a mental list of people he would trust with a friend of his. Aerith was busy, and there was a great chance of her drawing attention already. Shera could not be bothered right now, and Lazard was… "I got it. I'll call 'er when we get inside an' settled," he assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

The walk to the building was nerve-wracking for all of them, and Cid nearly threw a fit in protest when he saw that the elevator was out of order. He slumped his way up the three flights of stairs, now honestly wanting nothing more than to collapse onto the nearest soft surface.


	19. Chapter 19

What's in this chapter? Let's see...more of Cid being slightly creepy and very corny, and some Vincent angst, as usual. Oh, and fluff. Get out yer cavity-preventing toothpaste!

* * *

Vincent leaned wearily on the doorframe, the knowledge of temporary safety suddenly making his limbs weigh an easy ton. There were thundering footsteps and squeals of joy as mother and children were tearfully reunited, and they were greeted by their friends as well. Cid collapsed into Aerith's concerned arms, and Vincent leaned heavily against Tseng saying, "It is not mine," when his second looked concernedly at the blood staining his shirt. "Mr. Highwind needs some medical attention, would you be willing to help him? I-I need to use the restroom."

As Tseng nodded, and turned to help Aerith ease Cid down onto the couch, Vincent stumbled into the bathroom, and locked the door behind him. Now that it was finally over, the reality of what he had done, which he had distanced from himself at the time, came crashing back down onto his shoulders and he fell to his knees at the toilet, retching repeatedly. When he had exhausted his stomach, he rested a moment, leaning against the wall and fumbled with is gauntlet, unbuckling it to slide it off of his arm. He raised shaking hands to his face and scrubbed it firmly before he dragged himself to his feet, and staggered over to the sink. He looked at himself in the mirror, his messy, tangled hair, half-obscuring his face, the drying blood on his shirt and vest, his pale and haggard face and sunken, exhausted red eyes.

He turned on the water, and while he waited for it to grow hot, he pulled off his gloves and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. When the water reached the desired temperature he began to soap his hands and arms. He had to get the blood off. He scrubbed and washed and re-scrubbed until his hands were raw and painful, and _still_ he could not remove the blood. With a hoarse sob he began the process all over again…he had to keep trying, it just _had_ to come off eventually, if he just scrubbed hard enough.

With a sigh at the closed door, and the water that had been running continuously for the last twenty minutes, Tseng finished sewing up Cid's shoulder while Aerith clucked disapprovingly that Cid did not take good enough care of himself. Tseng grinned and finally got the woman to go and do _something _productive in the form of making them all some hot tea to help settle the still-raw nerves. He knew that Elena and the children's presence would make Vincent uncomfortable when he finally rejoined them, so he shooed them back to their apartment, telling Elena to call if she needed anything, and the ensuing silence was some of most blissful in Tseng's recent memory. "You are a lucky man, Mr. Highwind," he admitted softly as he bit the thread after the last suture knot. "Both for having such a complete medical kit in your bathroom, and for the location of this wound. Just a few inches lower and to the right, and you would not have survived."

A few minutes of continuous, "Hey, watch where yer jabbin' that thing!" and "Ow, dammit!" quickly faded as Cid realized he did not need to affect any false personality in his present company. It was a refreshing realization, and he relaxed and let Tseng do his job. Near the end, when Tseng made his comments about how easy it would have been for Cid to die, Cid asked, "Is he gonna be okay?" as he jerked his head toward the bathroom door. "I know he hates…he hates 'imself so much, an' 'e just won't listen to me when I try t'point out how much there is left t'love. He locks 'imself b'hind so many doors I can't even get to 'im, but I think fer a minute t'day, fer just a minute, I almost had 'im." Cid looked up into Tseng's face, trying to see if he could read anything in those dark eyes and finding nothing but traces of warmth that confused him all over again. "An' you, y're just as bad as he is," Cid grumped, not wanting to be rude, but wanting Aerith to hurry up with that tea.

She did almost as soon as the thought occurred to him, and Cid gratefully took the proffered cup, smiling at Aerith as she sat.

"Thanks fer stayin' with th'kids, both o' ya. Was a damned good thing we went lookin' for 'er," Cid said, and then turned concernedly to Tseng again. "I owe 'im so much now. All o' ya, really, but Vincent most of all." And where was Vincent? Locked away from him, focusing on the negative aspects of the day. "D'you…d'ya think it'd be all right if I went in after 'im, or is it better t'wait 'til 'e's done?" he asked, then shook his head. "Never mind. I ain't askin' nobody anymore." Standing a bit shakily and placing his cup on the table, Cid went to the bathroom, knocked on the door, and demanded, "Let me in, Vincent."

Tseng had grinned when the cop wasn't looking when the man began snapping at him. Vincent was right, he _did_ whine. But it was far from annoying; rather it was almost childlike and endearing. He had murmured, "You complain much." That had earned him a glare that actually threatened to make him chuckle, but was wise and held it in. He also thought that Highwind was a good match for his friend. Cid was everything that Vincent was not, and he figured the best hope of getting his friend back was through this man. He patted Cid companionably on the shoulder, and was about to speak when the cop got up, and went to the bathroom door, demanding to be let in. _A good match, until he does something stupid_, Tseng thought wryly. But he knew that Highwind's heart was in the right place.

With a wince, he stood and followed, resting his hand upon the cop's arm he said softly, "He will be all right, just give him a minute." _Or several_, Tseng thought sadly, then gently steered Cid into the guest bedroom, and half-shut the door to give them some privacy. He leaned against the wall, and studied Highwind a moment before continuing quietly, "He's always been like that. He hates to kill, Mr. Highwind, and the fact that he did today, in the manner that he did, says to me that he was very passionate about the reason behind it. We try to protect him -Reno, Rude, myself, and even Verdot- from having to do it, but sometimes it is inevitable, and you see the result of that now. In turn, he protects us." He pushed off the door, to stand closer to Cid. "He also hates to be reminded that he did." He shook his head when Cid opened his mouth to speak. "Please, let me finish. I am not saying entirely discount that he took a life today. What I _am_ saying is this: do not make more of it than needs be. I made that mistake once, and will not do so again. I would hate to see you make the same one when I could prevent it. He did what he had to do, and you can do him the biggest favor by accepting that, and letting it go." Tseng stepped up to the door and opened it, pausing to say over his shoulder, "I really hope you _did_ reach him today, Mr. Highwind."

He left the room then, not knowing if Cid followed or not, and he did not really care. Rather what had his alarmed attention at the moment was Vincent, who had finally come out of the bathroom, and was standing in the doorway to the living room clutching a bloody hand towel and looking sheepish.

"I am sorry, Mr. Highwind, I will replace your towel." Vincent said, a hint of color having turned his cheeks a light shade of rose.

"What have you done?" Tseng breathed and strode purposefully over to Vincent to take the man's hands into his own. He plucked the hand towel out Vincent's grip and stared, horrified, down at his boss's raw and bloody hands. "You've never done that before. What were you thinking?" He glared at Vincent, which only got him a nasty glare in return.

"I said I was sorry, and I do not believe that I need to answer to you for everything, Tseng." Vincent snapped, pulling his hands back and fisting one around the towel. "I will be-"

"Fine, yes yes, I know." Tseng snapped back, and then gestured forcefully at Vincent's hands. "But _this _is going too far." He stopped speaking when he got his first good, unworried look at Vincent's worn and haggard face. "Look, you're exhausted. Stay here and rest and-"

"I am most certainly _not_ staying here!" Vincent's response was immediate, and vehement. "If ShinRa finds out I have not been at the Tower this entire weekend…dear gods, if he finds out where I have been _today,_ then quite literally, our world will explode, Tseng." Vincent said, already pale face losing the rest of its color as the man sat shakily down on the edge of the couch. "You have no idea what we discovered today. There is so much that has to be done."

"And you will give me a full briefing on Monday so that we can begin preparing to do them." Tseng said. Silencing anything further from Vincent with a sharp hand gesture, he squatted down in front of his boss. "Mr. ShinRa knows you frequently oversee 'business' on weekends, many times never leaving the car. I've been in contact with Reno and had him, Rude and Verdot out on "jobs" today, so _no one_ is in the Tower right now, until I return. I can handle Mr. ShinRa. Trust us to cover for you, Vincent. Stay here, and _rest_."

"No, you cannot 'handle' ShinRa, Tseng." Vincent moaned softly. "I have to be there…be there to take the p-" He caught himself before he could say _punishment_, and Tseng visibly winced.

"How can he punish anyone, if we are all gone? It will not be the first time, Vincent. If you will not do it for you, then do it for me. I have never asked anything of you, but I will now if I have to. Stay here where you are safe, and trust us to keep things running for you." Tseng said in a whisper.

Too exhausted to fight anymore, Vincent just sighed and nodded. He looked so forlorn that upon reflex, Tseng reached up to touch him, but stopped when he saw Vincent cringe. It broke his heart. He sighed and stood back up. Tugging the wrinkles out of his jacket, he shot a meaningful look at the cop before he said professionally. "I will have my phone on me if you need anything. Ms. Gainsborough, may I offer you a ride home?"

Only after Aerith agreed to allow Tseng to bring her home and bid goodbye to the other men did Cid belatedly reply, "I got enough t'go around," in regards to the towel. "But don't do that anymore. It hurts me so bad," he said softly, taking the ruined towel and dropping it into the garbage can just inside the kitchen. He returned to the living room and took his place on the couch a few feet away from Vincent. "Y'do owe me a shirt, though," he said, grinning and pointing to the one Vincent had shredded earlier.

Vincent snorted softly. "Undershirts are easy enough to come by, fortunately." He murmured, leaning back into the couch cushions, and staring at two wispy cobwebs in a corner. Now that it was all over, the shock of discovery, the chase, the return…now that they were alone, he was just…worn out.

"Long-ass day, t'day was," Cid said easily. He didn't think now was the time to thank Vincent for accompanying him, or to mention the life-debt Vincent had every right to claim, but he didn't know what else to talk about. "That Rhapsodos is somethin' else. I c'n see why Lazard c'mplains so much about 'im. Dramatic little bastard, ain't 'e?"

Vincent laughed sourly. "You have no idea. Why is Deusericus complaining to you about Rhapsodos, anyway?" He couldn't quite hide the curiosity in his voice, as he rolled his head to peer at the cop questioningly.

"Same reason Scarlet bitches t'me 'bout you, I reckon. An' o' course, I don't work fer him an' he shouldn't be bringin' 'is work outside th'way 'e does, but some o' them stories're just so goddamned funny he's gotta tell somebody. 'Course, m'so tired now I can't think o' none, but…" Cid shrugged and looked back at Vincent, smiling warmly. "Thank ya, Vincent."

"You are welcome." Vincent returned; actually appreciating his work being acknowledged, for once. "I enjoyed working with you, Cid. But I think we need to work on your unenviable ability at being a target. Does terrible things to a man's nerves. Oh, and exercising a bit more caution when entering rooms, would be beneficial to your lifespan as well." He chuckled, a smile softening his features.

Cid laughed out loud, Vincent's smile doing wonderful things for his heart, which had so recently been breaking for the same man. "Yeah, I imagine so. Caution's a tricky thing, though. C'n getcha in a lot o' trouble if y'don't know how t'use it right." His eyes softened further as he backtracked to Vincent's first suggestion. "I don't mind bein' a target if…I was so scared after, Vincent, thinkin' it coulda been you 'stead o' me. So if me makin' a good target keeps 'em away from you, then I don't mind one little bit."

"Ah, but _I_ do." Vincent said, shifting to turn a little more towards Cid. "What kind of a partner would I be, if I go around getting you shot all of the time?" He sighed softly. "We are in this deep together, my friend. Regardless of what we were before, we are partners now. The tricky part now is how to handle the situation now that we know what kinds of ideas our 'superiors' are thinking up for us."

This made Cid grin for some reason; he had imagined himself covered in something resembling a turtle's shell that would protect him but still let him look vulnerable. _Now, if that'd just work…_ He was so tired of thinking coherently, but Vincent had finally gotten to the real problem. "I don't know what t'think about that, much less what t'do about it," he said, smile fading. "All I c'n see t'do is go along with it as long's we hafta, an' as soon as we c'n get you out, we do, an' we…" he stopped to snort at himself. "We what? Ride off inta th'sunset? Real fuckin' likely in a place like this." He reached for Vincent's shoulder and squeezed it lightly, wanting to take his hand but afraid of hurting the tender flesh there, "But I sure as hell wouldn't mind," he whispered, more to himself than to Vincent.

"A pretty dream, Highwind." Vincent murmured, looking away. "But my 'out' is a little more complicated than wrangling a couple of chocobos out through traffic. Can you still safely get me the mako I need? It will have to be regularly, every week without fail."

"Yeah, I can. Every week now? I'll let 'er know. I'd save up any extras, 'cause th'baby's due soon. We'll get Aer in soon as possible –he's got 'er lined up as a substitute fer anybody out, likes havin' a pretty girl around, th'pervert- but that might take two, three weeks, an' there won't be nothin' comin' in durin' that time." He sighed sadly then and said, "I know it's complicated. Too complicated. Everything's too fuckin' complicated!" A dry sob escaped him before he even realized it was coming, and he shook his head to clear away any that might follow it. "Can we hold each other, Vincent? I needa be close t'you right now."

He had nodded when he heard that Highwind could get him the mako. It was a more tenuous arrangement than he would have preferred, but he thought he could work with that. He needed to separate from ShinRa, permanently. If he could take Rufus out of the equation, it would buy them some time as Rhapsodos regrouped. It would do nothing to alleviate the already-present suspicion that Scarlet and Rhapsodos, even Azul, had of him. But that could not be helped. He needed to contact the Syndicate and find out what they knew of Azul's activities, and he wondered why he hadn't seen any representatives there from the Kisaragi clan, so likewise they had to be notified as well. His thoughts were brought to a screeching halt by Highwind's next request. He eyed Cid nervously. "What-what do you mean?" he asked stupidly. The thought of being restrained, even in a loose pair of arms, terrified him.

Cid didn't like the look on Vincent's face. He'd never been bothered in this way by something so simple before, and it was such a stretch from his attitude earlier in the day. "Hold me," Cid clarified. "Let me be close to ya as long's I can. If it helps…if you can, Vincent, go back t'how y'felt this mornin', right after. Kiss me like y'wanted to then. I'll give m'self to ya if y'want, if that's better, but I need ya t'night. I need somethin' that says I'm yours, even if you ain't ready t'be mine. If we can't make love yet, then just lay with me an' don't make me leave ya." The more he talked, the more he imagined, the more Cid felt that tonight would, for them, either be a major turning point or just yet another night he would look back and rue for not putting its potential to use. "It's my turn t'ask, Vincent. Stay with me?"

Vincent had difficulty swallowing. He remembered how he had reacted to Cid getting shot, but recalling that feeling was not as simple as just hitting a switch. To be honest, he didn't even know if he _could_ feel that way again. He looked down at his raw hands, hands that were now trembling slightly. He was nervous, scared, his body encompassed by a cold chill that he had no name for. But likewise he found that he could not turn away the pleading look in Highwind's eyes. He hated being torn when faced with making a decision. So he just went on impulse, and hoped that he would not regret it. "All right," he said softly, hesitantly. "Where do you-" he cleared his throat loudly, "where do you want me?"

Cid's eyes widened; he had been expecting Vincent to leave anyway, despite Tseng's warning and Cid's request. He shuddered minutely. _An' don't ask a question like that…_ "Everywhere I am. Always," he whispered honestly, knowing that those words did no good in his current situation. He didn't know what to do for Vincent, how to make him more comfortable, but he knew what he wanted. "Better off in bed," he said quietly, "so if we fall asleep at least we don't wake up hurtin'." That said, Cid didn't want to move from where he was. He met Vincent's eyes and felt so much in that moment that he couldn't describe. He stood slowly and extended both his hands, then remembered that Vincent's were probably still very painful and did not need pressure put on them. Still, he couldn't turn his back on Vincent and expect the man to follow him. Instead, he gestured toward the bedroom and said, "After you," voice shaking as much as the smile he attempted.

Finding himself unable to meet Cid's eyes, Vincent stood and slowly made his way into the bedroom, jumping when Cid shut the door behind them. His gut was a hard knot of nerves, and his stomach felt mildly rebellious, but he held his ground, looking at the bed as though to touch it would cause him to be incinerated. With painful deliberation he shrugged out of his vest, but just couldn't bring himself to take off his shirt. He hoped Cid would understand, as he walked over and carefully arranged the pillows so that he could sit in a mostly upright position, comfortably. He carefully straightened the top comforter and toed off his boots, trying in vain to prolong the moment, before he no longer could. Sitting down on the bed, he took a deep, steadying breath and situated himself back against the pillows. When he was settled, he looked up at the blank face of the cop and held out his arms a little. "Like this?"

Cid nodded, chest clenching. _What's th'matter, Vin? I don't know how t'help_. He said nothing, just slid in beside Vincent and into his arms, sighing shakily but happily as he came to rest against Vincent's body. "Just like this." He wanted to put his arm about Vincent's waist, but felt it would not be welcomed at present. He turned his body instead so that he was leaning back against Vincent's chest, but his legs were sticking off the side of the bed, and he found that to be rather uncomfortable. No matter which way he bent them, he could not get them comfortable. He shifted once more, and found that if he let his legs rest parallel with Vincent's, everything was a little better. Cid tilted his head up to look at Vincent, but saw only the bottom of his chin. "Thank ya," he said again, to draw attention to himself, and hopefully earn a glance, if not a smile.

Vincent had expected Cid's weight and presence to be intimidating, trapping, but in actuality, he found it strangely comforting. He wrapped his arms around the cop, and held the man close, resting his head against Highwind's a little awkwardly, but surprising himself at finding that he craved the closeness. "Thank _you_, Cid," he breathed, tightening his hold briefly before loosening them again, but not removing his arms. "Thank you for everything." His back and shoulders slowly relaxed until the cop's weight pressed him pleasantly down into the pillows, and he let his eyes slowly drift down until he was staring lazily at the framed picture across the room from them.

"You're ever'thin'," Cid amended, snuggling deeper against Vincent and deciding that propriety be damned, he was going to be comfortable. He draped an arm and a leg over Vincent and rested his head fully against the solid chest beneath it. "I really- I really do love ya, Vincent. Do ya believe me yet?" Cid barely knew what he was saying anymore. He was so exhausted…and the day was hardly halfway over. They'd left so early this morning, and Cid had expected it to be nearly nightfall by the time all was done, but it was only mid-afternoon. Though he often found it difficult to fall asleep during daylight hours, his eyes were heavy and even his thoughts were slurring, and he knew he would be asleep within minutes. "M'sleepy," he announced, trying to warn Vincent to get comfortable, because he was going to be trapped where he was for quite some time.

Shifting to allow Cid to settle a little more comfortably on top of him, Vincent brought his hand up to begin slowly dragging his fingers though the soft blond hair. His thoughts held no real cohesion, and he murmured, "You should be, you have had a busy day: breaking down doors, scaling-" he broke off as he gave an enormous yawn, his jaw popping at the apex of it, before finishing in a mumble, "-fire escapes, crawling about rafters, and all around rescuing the damsel in distress." His eyes slid shut as he smiled to himself.

Cid gave a sleepy sound of content and relaxed into the petting. "Feels good…don' stop, 'kay?" he asked, and those were the last words he said apart from, "Yer jaw shouldn't pop like that. Ain't healthy," before falling asleep with a loud sigh.

Vincent would have answered, "So says the man with a hole in his shoulder," but he was already sound asleep.


	20. Chapter 20

Cid slept deeply for several hours. When he woke, he found that he could not distinguish whether he had dreamed or lain awake all night; if he had indeed dreamed, they were dreams of lying with Vincent this way. It was dark when he woke, and the darkness momentarily confused him before he remembered how early he had gone to sleep. Vincent was again draped over him, and Cid was aroused and quickly growing more so. "Shit, Vincent, you gotta stop doin' this if y'want me t'behave." It was not uncommon for him to wake up this way, but tonight he had company, which rendered it wholly unacceptable.

His companion's thigh pressed and shifting between his legs was certainly not helping. He stared at the other man's sleeping face for a while, taking note of how the lips formed a pout when Cid jostled him slightly, trying to move away. Giving up moving, he instead leaned in and kissed those lips. When Vincent's eyes fluttered open, fixing Cid with a look he didn't know how to interpret, Cid groaned, "You ain't nothin' but trouble, y'know that?" as he worked his arm out from beneath Vincent to begin stroking his hair in an attempt to coax him back into sleep. "Go t'sleep, Vincent, it's all right," he whispered.

Vincent had slept long, deeply and dreamlessly. He roused slowly, even after he felt lips upon his own. He had long forgotten how it had felt to wake up in such a state, warm and comfortable, next to a body, and being touched gently. "Cid?" he asked groggily, struggling to sit up, but only succeeding in slumping a little more against the body under him. He rubbed his eyes and squinted out the window. It was dark; just how long had they slept, anyway? "What time is it?"

"Not quite midnight," Cid answered quietly, enraptured by Vincent being content to stay with him. "I didn't mean t'wake ya up, y'c'n go on back t'sleep." Cid stopped petting Vincent's hair to let both his arms lie limply at his sides, trying to show that Vincent could make his own decisions and Cid would deny him nothing. "If y're hungry, I c'n call somethin' in. There's a couple places still open." _Say you ain't, an' stay here. I don't wanna move… _

"Hn," Vincent grunted and settled back down to rest his cheek against Cid's shoulder. He tucked his hands up under his armpits and sighed quietly. "Not terribly, no." There was a moment of easy silence between them that was rudely interrupted by a loud rumbling growl. "Well, maybe a little," Vincent said sheepishly, and snuggled in closer to the warm body beside to him, his own reluctance to move surprising him, but not unpleasantly so.

Thoroughly enjoying the contact, Cid said timidly, "Maybe we c'n wait a little while? Feels so good just like this," he sighed. He moved his head to tuck Vincent's head under his chin, turning slightly to feel him more completely and draping an arm over him. Apparently he would deny him something after all. "'R maybe I c'd get 'em t'airlift it in an' come in through th'winda. Whatcha think?"

Vincent gave a muffled snort. "An' how wud we ge' th' airship unner th p'ate?" He said from where his face was pressed against the cop's clothed chest. He pulled his had back and took a deep, cool breath of air. He wriggled back and tilted his head to frown up at Highwind. "You smell, and I am covered with dried blood." He said bluntly before tucking his head back under Cid's chin. "And I have nothing but my suit to wear." He groaned. "Which is ruined, it is so wrinkled," he fussed inanely, but still made no move to get up.

"Mph…I dunno. Mebbe they c'd lift it with one o' them big cranes'r somethin'." He wiggled to accommodate Vincent's return to their cuddling position. "What, y'wanna take a shower, then? I c'n find somethin' for ya t'wear, an' I'll make up th'suit some kinda way. Mind you, anything 'round here'll be a little big on ya." Cid grinned as he pictured Vincent in one of his already oversized shirts. "We prob'ly oughta take care o' this, huh?" he sighed, being no more inclined to move than Vincent was.

"I do not wish to impose, but I am afraid that this will not do." Vincent sighed gustily, plucking at his shirt. He finally pulled back, albeit reluctantly. "But it does not mean that we cannot return to what we were doing." He lifted himself up to sit cross-legged on the bed and peered at Cid's bandaged shoulder. "Tseng does impressive work." He mused thoughtfully. Finally he slumped, and came out and asked. "May I use your shower and borrow a change of clothes? And I apologize for not asking earlier this morning, but I hurt, and had not slept well…and Marlene had kneed me in the testicles. That child has quite a leg on her." He blurted with a grimace.

Cid laughed out loud after wincing in sympathy for Vincent at the end of the story. "Well, she'll be able t'take care of 'erself, if nothin' else." He looked fondly at his companion, raising himself to sit up as well, and answering, "You don't hafta ask fer anything here. If it's mine, it's yours. I appreciate it, though," he said, and it was true; he was oddly flattered by Vincent's politeness, as few people bothered to respect Cid or what was his unless a sarcastic point was being made. "You go 'head an' shower, an' I'll getcha somethin' t'wear an' call in food. What're ya up for?" he asked, not wanting to order something only to watch Vincent politely choke it down as he did food Cid cooked himself. "An' he does do good work, don't 'e? Thank 'im for me if y'see 'im 'fore I do."

"Thank you," Vincent said sincerely then made to slide off the bed, but hesitated, looking intently at Cid. He then leaned forward and captured Cid's lips with his own, sliding one hand behind the cop's neck to pull the man's lips more firmly against his own. He slid his tongue against the seam of Cid's mouth, which opened eagerly, and he probed deeply, sliding his tongue against Highwind's and shivering as he felt that strange tingle begin in his belly. Finally he pulled back far enough to rest his forehead against Cid's and said more earnestly, "_Thank you_." Then turned away, got off the bed and drifted into the bathroom, shutting the door gently behind him.

Cid had no idea what he'd done, but he would do it again in a heartbeat if this was the reaction. Speaking of heartbeats, Cid's had quickened as soon as Vincent's lips had touched him. Smiling as he shook off the reaction, Cid stood and gathered clothes enough for both of them; he would shower after ordering the food. Pizza, though it was a repeat, sounded fine to him and was generally easily agreed upon. He ordered it the way he would have had he not had to share with children; light sauce, white cheeses only, and loaded with peppers – but only the mild ones, in case Vincent didn't like spice very much. When the call was done, Cid placed a set of clothes on each arm and knocked on the bathroom door. "Gotcher clothes. Promise I won't peek," he called over the running water.

Vincent made a noise of acknowledgment through the spray of water, grinning as he lathered up. His hands has healed enough that the abrasions were only irritated red marks and he felt rested, though still a bit tired. His mind was far from 'business' and he wanted to keep it that way. Finishing up quickly, he got out and toweled off. Picking up what looked like a soft pair of cotton pajama pants in a pleasing shade of blue, he grinned again as he slid them on. They were, as Cid had so astutely pointed out, too large for him and so rode low on his hips, countering the fact that they were a bit too short in the leg, but otherwise were surprisingly comfortable. The button down top followed suit, which was too short in the arms, but still managed to hang off of him. Upon exiting the bathroom, he dumped his street clothes on top of his duffel, then rummaged around in a pocket until he found a leather tie. He then sat on the edge of the bed, and loosely braided his hair to keep it out of his face, then opened the bedroom door and made his way out into the living room.

Cid grinned as Vincent reentered the living room. "Looks good on ya," he snorted, watching as the pants threatened to fall off him. "Shoulda gave ya somethin' with belt loops, I reckon." He stood, intending to use the shower now that Vincent was done, but a thought hit him: it would be foolish for him to allow Vincent to answer the door here. "Guess y're gonna hafta smell how much I stink a little while longer," Cid said, toying with Vincent's braid as he walked back around the couch. "C'n I getcha somethin' t'drink while we wait?"

Vincent rolled his eyes and grinned. "I shall manage. What do you have?"

"Um. Lemme get back to ya on that," Cid said, and entered the kitchen. "We got milk, cold tea, hot tea, water, an' pink lemonade, 'cause that's all Marlene'll drink an' Elena fergot t'take it back with 'er. No wine this time, s'much as I hate t'say it." He was quite sorry for it, actually; their nights together always went better on average when there was alcohol involved.

Vincent pursed his lips a moment in thought then got up off of the couch and walked into the kitchen, tugging up on the waistband of his sleep pants as he went. "I think hot tea would be pleasing…and relaxing, though I do not think I could get any more relaxed than I am at the moment. But I shall make it; you need not trouble yourself, go and sit down. Shall I make some for you as well?"

"Hey, y're a guest here. Sit yer ass down," Cid teased, pushing playfully at Vincent's shoulder, "or d'ya not trust me t'make a decent cup o' tea?"

Blinking, a little startled, Vincent did as Cid told him and plopped his ass down at the kitchen table. "It is not that. But you have already been more than generous already, it would be…rude of me to demand you wait on me as well." Manners had always been first and foremost in his mind, and he had been raised to consider it an honor to serve a guest in one's home. But since moving to Midgar, he had learned that things were a little…different in this city. So chastised he blurted, quite honestly, "I am sorry if I insulted you, Cid."

Turning his back on the heating water, Cid sighed and said, "Fer one thing, it ain't demandin' if I offer. Fer another, ain't it my job as a host t'make sure y're taken care of?" He smiled carefully, trying to show Vincent he wasn't offended without saying as much. "Guess maybe I'm just a little old-fashioned. I like bein' able t'take care o' ya, Vincent. An' I'm sorry if I made y'feel like I was offended. Mebbe pushed a little too hard there…didn't hurt ya, did I?"

"No," Vincent said thoughtfully. "I just did not think that I would come across someone with such similar values as I." He raised his leg to prop his foot on the seat of the chair and rest his chin on his knee, and wrapped his arms around his leg. He cocked his head at Cid, grin returning as he realized that what he was doing was considered in many circles as being rude, but didn't care.

The two of them sitting there in companionable conversation, Vincent at ease in a chair and Cid on the counter, felt like home for Cid, something he hadn't felt in a very long time. He wanted it to be like this forever, easy silence and easy talk, warm, heavy atmosphere surrounding them…Cid wondered what he had done right to deserve even a moment of this. He didn't dare break it with another confession of love, only looked back at Vincent, smiling. Just as the water started to boil, the doorbell rang, and Cid laughed. "Guess y'get t'make yer own anyway," he said as he left the kitchen to pay for the pizza.

Chuckling, Vincent stood up and walked over to the stove to finish making the tea, unconsciously tugging at the waistband of his pants again as he did so. By the time Cid returned with what looked to be pizza, but smelled quite a bit better than what they had last night with the children, he had two cups of hot tea steeped and waiting for them. "Pizza again?" he teased with a grin.

"Well, I didn't wanna hafta stand there takin' yer order from th'other side o' th'bathroom door, did I? Woulda screwed it up. Pizza's safe. Hope y'don't mind there's no pepperoni; that shit's gotta be th'worst invention on th'planet, 'cept fer maybe turnstiles." He set the box on the table, offered Vincent the first choice of cups of tea, took the other, and sat in the seat beside the one Vincent had occupied earlier. "Dammit, I'm gonna getcha fat, lettin' ya eat this late," he laughed, turning the open box toward Vincent.

Vincent snorted, and perused the already sliced pizza, looking for a slice that struck his fancy. Finding one thick with cheese and generous with peppers he removed it and took a bite before answering carefully around a mouthful, feeling delightfully childish and immature. "Perish the thought of one night of disastrously late food consumption and its results. And here I thought the beer gut I was working on would be the death of my physical appeal."

"Beer an' pizza's 'bout th'best way t'do yerself in, yeah," Cid said cheerily, toasting Vincent with his slice of pizza. "But I'll be damned if it ain't a hell of a way t'go." He winked, chewing the bite he took carefully before asking, "So didja see how yer Tseng was lookin' at Aerith t'day?"

Vincent blinked, startled. "No, I had not noticed. How did he look at her?" He couldn't hide the curiosity in his voice, and did not even try.

Grinning, Cid said, "Well, I guess you were kinda busy whenever all of us were t'gether. We'll hafta go out fer drinks'r somethin' sometime so y'c'n get a better look. I think 'e likes 'er," he said vaguely. "An' if I know her, she likes him too but won't let 'erself get close."

Chewing thoughtfully, he swallowed then sucked some cheese and sauce off of his thumb slowly as he considered the match. "Then they stand about as much chance of getting together as…" y_ou and I_, he finished in his head, watching Cid again as the cop took a large bite of pizza. And yet, here they were. Vincent smiled gently and said, "Ms. Gainsborough is a lovely young woman. She would be a fine match for Tseng. Why do you say that about her, Cid?"

"She's got 'er own past, like I reckon' he does. I know she looks th'picture o' innocence, but that's hardly true. An' her bein' her, she won't be able t'be comf'table bein' with 'im 'less'n she tells 'im ever'thin', even if he never asks. An' then she'll be afraid he'll reject 'er after hearin' she ain't who 'e thought, even though he's hardly a saint 'imself - well. An' you an' me know perfectly well he wouldn't do that to 'er, an' I reckon she does too, only she won't let 'erself think it, lest she end up bein' happy or somethin' awful like that," Cid explained, then grinned.

"She's a little bit like-" _like you, really_ "-well. I'mma go take that shower; freshen up for ya, an' then I'll be right back. Thanks fer the tea," he added as an afterthought, grinning. He stood, polishing off his second piece of pizza. "I can't take feelin' all gross no more," he laughed, and retreated into the bathroom. While showering, Cid couldn't help but smile as he thought of Vincent and everything being as it should be. This was what he wanted, the easy peace between them now. He hoped it would still be present when he returned to the kitchen. As the sweat and the rest of the blood washed away, Cid closed his eyes as a shudder and an inappropriate thought of Vincent joining him in the shower rushed over him.

_Calm yerself down, Highwind, y'old fool_, he scolded himself, scrubbing all over once more, quickly but thoroughly, before stepping out from beneath the spray and cutting off the water. When the time came to dress, Cid decided he didn't much feel like wearing a shirt. Vincent wouldn't mind. In fact, Cid figured as he looked into the mirror, he might even be entitled to charge him for the view. He smoothed his hair back, not bothering to comb it since they were just going back to bed, and moved to put on his pants, only to find that they were nowhere to be seen. Sighing and wrapping one of the big towels around his waist, he stuck his head out the door and looked for Vincent, finding him to be still sitting in the kitchen. He entered, asking, "Say, Vincent, you wouldn't happen t'know where I put those clothes I got fer m'self, wouldja?"

Eyeing Cid in amusement, one brow rose as Vincent said, "No, I was in the shower." He chuckled at Highwind's frustrated expression, and went back to the slice of pizza he had been working on before Cid had decided to show off his ability to wear a bath towel. As Cid huffed and wandered off to continue his search, Vincent's thoughts returned to Tseng and Aerith. It would be good if Tseng could find someone…find someone and have a life, a family, instead of following him around all the time. He hated the fact that Tseng's life all but revolved around _him_ and _his_ schedule. It wasn't fair. _It would appear that that we all are not who we seem to be_, he thought sadly, plucking a pepper off of his pizza and nibbling on it meditatively. He would have to see what he could do to…encourage Tseng to spend more time with the enchanting Ms. Gainsborough. He grinned to himself as his brain began to idly plot a little.


	21. Chapter 21

There was smut in this one, I cut it out, and you can find it here: http : / / community . livejournal . com / cerberusgospel / 14852 . html if you take out the spaces. If that link doesn't show up, follow the link to cerberusgospel in my profile and it'll take you to the same place :D

* * *

Cid scoured the living room in search of the clothes, growling at sofa cushions when they revealed nothing to him. The towel had worked loose, and he was too frustrated to re-secure it, so he was holding it closed with one hand and still searching under things with the other hand. He checked his bedroom, tried the bathroom again, then returned to the kitchen. He spied the pizza box and threw his hands up in surrender and laughed at his own stupidity. "Dammit, Vincent, I gave 'em t'the damn pizza kid!" he realized, grinning. "How stupid d'y'hafta be, huh? Shit…" Only after finishing his good-natured rant did he realize that there was no longer anything covering him. "Uh. Well. Yeah. Sorry," he said, bending over to grab the towel and pulling it around himself, leaving the room and slinking in mild embarrassment into his chair in living room.

Vincent had gaped, openmouthed a moment when had Cid stood before him wearing nothing but his own skin, and revealing what his trousers had done a superb job at hiding from the world, and felt his face grow unbearably hot. Quickly he averted his eyes behind a slightly trembling hand and mumbled, "Yes, well surely you have _other_ clothes!" Just as the cop reached down to recover himself and leave. When the man failed to return, and he managed to turn down the furnace in his face, Vincent stood up and poked his head into the living room to see Cid sitting moodily in his recliner, towel back in place. "Well that was…unexpected." He said a little shakily.

Cid just nodded, looking in the other direction. He feared that if he met Vincent's eyes, he would erupt into laughter, and Vincent would feel that it was at his expense. "Y'have m'other pants," he pointed out, lips twisting in a grin. "Reckon I c'n sleep in shorts," he said, then teased, "'less y'd rather I go in the nude." Finally somewhat under control, Cid turned to face Vincent. "M'sorry. Didn't mean t'make ya uncomf'table, I just didn't think much about it 'fore I let go, y'know?"

"Clearly." Vincent said wryly, crossing his arms, and leaning on a hip against the doorframe. "Or perhaps you would like _these_ back and _I_ sleep without…no, no, do not answer that." He sighed and went back to sit at the table, slumping down and nursing his tea in mild irritation. He didn't even know exactly _where_ the irritation came from, only that Highwind knew how to call it forth without fail.

"Aw, Vincent…" Cid said, put out and a bit hurt at the abrupt change in attitude. "I said I was sorry," he called. Cid quickly threw on a pair of clean shorts, then returned to the kitchen to stare at Vincent, trying to figure out what he'd done wrong…besides the obvious.

Vincent sighed and looked over at Cid with bland affect. "I know. It is just, I am…unaccustomed to such open displays." _Gods that was pitiful, you idiot_, he thought lamely. He wasn't about to admit that he had _liked_ what he had seen. He was still a bit uncomfortable with it himself, and he shifted slightly to ease the sudden tightness in his groin and belly. That tingle was back, the one that made him both nervous, and excited all at the same time. The last time he had felt that was with…Lucrecia. He shook his head, dislodging a few strands of hair as he banished those inappropriate thoughts. But the realization had him glancing back over at the disheveled…and muscular blond. _Oh, what am I going to do?_ He thought with mild panic.

Cid smiled. "Well, no worries, 'cause I don't usually give 'em." He knew that if he suggested returning to bed now, Vincent would sit up all night in thought, so he did not ask. "Vincent," he said quietly, "talk t'me. It's all right. Ain't nobody here gonna judge ya." He placed his hand on the table, palm up, not grabbing for Vincent but extending the offer for contact. If Vincent refused, Cid would not be hurt; he tried very hard to understand, but figured the best he could do was to be accommodating and supportive.

Vincent stared at Cid's worn palm and strong fingers a moment before transferring his mug to his off-side hand, and reached out to place his palm flat against Cid's. He stared the color and texture differences of their skin, the differences in the lengths of their fingers, the scars on Cid's hand compared to his own seamless flesh. Slowly he slid his palm down Cid's until only their fingers were overlapping, and he threaded them loosely so that his hand rested palm down upon the table, and Cid's rested palm up. "What is there to talk about that is not sad or forbidden?" He asked softly to himself, watching their hands. Then he said, a little louder, looking up to meet Cid's eyes. "I do not wish to talk about myself, and I do not care what others think." And he didn't. It was himself that was the problem.

"There's nothin' forbidden between us unless you make it that way. As fer sad things, they have a place here too. Nobody says we hafta like 'em, but they happen." His voice sounded oddly hollow, and he hoped Vincent was not hearing it that way as well. Cid curled his fingers up slightly to squeeze Vincent's. "But if you don't wanna talk, I won't press ya to." He looked deeply into those eyes, wondering how this man could be so cold, so mature, yet so much like a child. He was the most confident and the most insecure man Cid knew other than himself, and the complexity of Vincent amazed him.

"Ah, they do, don't they?" Vincent chuckled. "It is a sad world we live in, full of monsters and shadows, lies and deceit. Only the strong may survive in this wasteland that we call home." He leaned forward, raising their joined hands and twisting them so that he could brush Cid's hand against his cheek. He had not missed the dead tone to the man's voice, and it saddened him to hear it. The sorrow weighed heavily upon his shoulders. There was so much death, and pain, betrayal and nightmares. It was slowly killing him, and he was beginning to think he wouldn't be able to reach his goal, his "out" from this mad world. "What I would give, but to have a moment of joy, a moment of hope within this void that consumes me." He released their hands, and turned Cid's so that the cop's palm rested upon his cheek unobstructed. "How do we live? Day in and day out, always running in circles, trying to get somewhere only to end up right where we started from?" He sighed and gently dropped Cid's hand back to the table. "But enough of this. I grow weary of chasing my tail. Is there nothing we can find to discuss that would allow us to enjoy each other's company more?"

"I think we were enjoyin' each other's company better when we weren't talkin' at all," Cid answered when he failed to discover a suitable subject. He stood, rinsed out their cups of tea, and turned to face Vincent, sighing. "I dunno about you, but I think I c'd go right back t'bed. 'Course, we'll hafta use th'guest room now, since we got th'other one all stunk up w'blood an' whatnot." Cid had not slept in the guest room yet, but he was sure it was nearly as comfortable as his own. "Whatcha think? We c'n talk more there if th'mood strikes us."

Vincent considered for a moment, and in the end the residual weariness in his limbs made up his mind for him. He nodded. "It would be welcome." He said, standing and putting the left over pizza into the fridge, he turned and began heading for the guest room.

"Hey," Cid called softly before Vincent left, and when the other man turned to see what the fuss was about, Cid jerked his head to indicate that Vincent should walk back toward Cid. Cid met him halfway and placed his hands on Vincent's waist, rubbing with his thumbs. He grinned and strengthened his grip, lifting Vincent with little difficulty and setting him on top of the table. Before Vincent had time to protest, Cid stepped in between his slightly parted legs and kissed him, hot and hard at first, then quickly slowing down into something more manageable as he carefully requested entry into Vincent's mouth. One of Cid's hands was still at Vincent's waist, but the other rested behind dark hair on the back of Vincent's neck. As Cid pressed another soft, questioning kiss to Vincent's lips, his eyes met the red ones and reflected the smile Cid felt. He let his tongue press against Vincent's mouth, using the same "trick" Vincent had used against him earlier and hoping Vincent would respond as favorably as he had.

Frowning, Vincent had returned to Cid only to grunt in surprise when the cop wrapped very strong hands around his waist, 'thunked' him down upon the tabletop, and proceeded to very soundly kiss him. Now he sat, leaning back onto his hands, and opening his mouth to Cid's bold tongue. The heat he felt radiating from the cop enveloped him, making him pleasantly dizzy as the quickly-becoming-familiar tingle returned to encompass his entire body. He shivered and released a breathy little moan before scooting his body forward to press more fully against Highwind's, as he slid his arms around the man's waist to steady himself, all without realizing that he was doing it. When they broke apart, he was breathless, and a little dazed. "What was that for?" he asked stupidly, blinking and licking his lips.

Cid couldn't answer that. Why did he need a reason? He pulled Vincent's body closer to him by the hips and kissed him again, shivering at the feel of Vincent yielding more easily for him this time and at the way the other man's arms had tightened around him. Cid's eyes were growing heavy now, and when they broke apart this time he nuzzled into Vincent's neck, kissing what he could reach of it. He felt so right here, was so comfortable, that it was almost a chore to drag his mouth back up to Vincent's one more time. He kissed him once more, then rested their foreheads together, breathing finally beginning to quicken.

Breaths mingling, Vincent brought one arm from around Cid's waist and placed it upon the bare, bronzed chest. His brain was beginning to clear, but deeper thought continued to elude him, and he didn't mind at all. Slowly, but with deliberation, Cid reached up, and began to unbutton his shirt. Vincent's breath caught in his throat, and he started to protest, "Cid, I-" only to be cut off again with yet another kiss, one which drained even more of his resolve away. Hadn't Highwind already seen him without clothing? But somehow this was more revealing, and still the cop continued to unbutton. Finally his shirt hung open, revealing some pale, lightly scarred flesh. It wasn't that he was ashamed of the scars, rather he was ashamed of what they stood for, what he had to endure in order to receive them. Already the cop was running one thick hand over his chest, thumbing a nipple and calling forth a shuddering breath from his throat. Highwind had already said, in action more than words, what he thought of those scars. And what Vincent had done had no place here. Vincent's other hand came up to cup Cid's cheek as he brought their mouths together again, this time with more fervor as he tried to drown out the screaming, howling voices in his mind.

Encouraged by Vincent's reciprocation, Cid finished undoing the buttons and pushed the shirt off the smooth shoulders. He pulled back slightly and watched as his hands ran over the slight frame, so small when it was not hidden by bold clothes and a dominating persona. _I need you_. His eyes returned to stare into Vincent's as he pondered what to do next, but his hands never stopped moving, and his lips often worked against the ones opposite him. Vincent's hands on him were burning, arousing him. Both were on his chest now, seemingly attempting to burn away every inch of skin there. Cid took them, kissed their palms, and placed them on his waist. He leaned forward and put his arms around Vincent tightly, running his hands over the warm, smooth skin of his back. "Don't close yer eyes," he pleaded, because he knew that if Vincent saw darkness instead of the man with him, he would too easily be engulfed by that same darkness, and become fearful again. _Only ever see me_.

* * *

With that last, hard, jerking thrust from the cop, it was over. Cid held himself absolutely still, resting his cheek and mouth against Vincent's leg as Vincent made a soft sound of disappointment at having the source of his pleasure taken away. He lay still, listening to their combined breathing while he felt his heart pound in his chest, sending the blood pulsing through his veins. His whole body tingled with never-before-felt sensation and the muscles in his legs trembled lightly. Finally he just let them sink down to dangle off of the table, causing the bones of his hips to jut sharply as Cid carefully withdrew from his body, leaving only a strange numbness behind.

"M'sorry," Cid muttered against Vincent's leg, "I tried. But y'felt so good…." He didn't want to pull out even though they were done- but they weren't done. He ran his hands down Vincent's sides, looking fondly and wearily at him. He had made a promise, if only to himself, about what to do now, and he lowered himself to do it. Vincent did not respond to the pleasure as much as he had earlier, but Cid could tell that was due to near exhaustion. Soon enough, Cid was catching in his mouth the proof of that pleasure, and when he had swallowed it all, he stood straight again and just looked, watching as Vincent, flushed and still breathing irregularly, began to really lose the fight to stay awake. Cid smiled and ran a hand through Vincent's sweat-dampened hair before simply scooping him up, unmindful of his injured shoulder, and heading toward the clean bedroom. "Sleepy?" he asked with a deep chuckle as he nuzzled the top of Vincent's head. "We're goin' t'bed now."

The groan Vincent had let loose when Cid had wrapped his lips around his semi-rigid cock, had been one of pleading. All too quickly, the cop had gotten him painfully hard once again, and he had begged weakly, half-heartedly for the man to stop, but his pleas had simply gone unheeded. Now he was completely spent; the past week, and the evenings' activities having caught up with him, had turned his limbs to lead. He could feel moisture cool and slowly drying on his buttocks, and on his belly, and his skin was painfully sensitive so that even the air was almost too much. So when Cid wrapped strong arms around him and lifted his dead weight, he was powerless to stop the small whimper that escaped. Head lolling inwards towards Cid's shoulder, his eyes slid shut, and he was asleep before he hit the bed.

Cid kissed Vincent's forehead as set him on the bed, and though he was tired as well, he felt he owed it to Vincent to at least clean what he could reach with a damp cloth. The other man hardly stirred as Cid wiped over his stomach and thighs, leaving the rest because he had no energy left. He worked the covers over Vincent, slid in next to him, and snuggled closely to him. After feathering more kisses over cheek and side of the neck closest to him, Cid curled in toward Vincent and also slept.


	22. Chapter 22

Fluffy morning after? Uh, no. AAAAAAAngst ahead. Hooray!

_

* * *

The mist swirled around his hips and thighs; the cold, moisture-laden air caused gooseflesh to rise on his arms, chest and legs. But what had him frightened was the fact that he was _alone_ here, whereas there had always been that presence before. "Hello?" he called, only to have the mist dampen his voice so that is sounded muted and contained._

"_You've lost your focus." The voice was everywhere this time, and Vincent whirled around as he tried in vain to make out a form._

"_What? N-No, I haven't! Things are progressing…" he stammered nervously._

"_No," came the interruption, the voice lethal and colder than the mist. "You have lost sight of your true goal, and that is unforgivable."_

"_You don't understand!" Vincent tried again, desperately. "Something has come up, they're trying to pin a murder on me…"_

"_Irrelevant."_

"_You're wrong!" he shot back, taking confidence from the mellow sound of that horrible voice. "If something happens to me then you'll not get what you want."_

_There was a pregnant pause. Finally, "Perhaps I misjudged the situation." _

_Suddenly the darkness seemed to coalesce into a solid form _right _behind Vincent, and no matter how hard he tried to turn around to see his friend-his enemy, he found that he was frozen in place. The figure stood nearly pressed flush against his back, but gave off no heat that would confirm the presence of life. Peripherally to his right, Vincent caught a quick flash of spun silver. "Perhaps you have," Vincent murmured, shivering._

"_Maybe you need a little more…incentive," hissed the voice into his ear._

"_What are you talking about?" Vincent gasped, wanting to turn around so badly that he was beginning to sweat._

"_Deal with this little oversight however you wish…but dispose of your distraction, or I shall do it for you."_

"_Distraction…" Vincent breathed, a knot of fear beginning to clench in his belly, turning it to stone and making him want to run. But the fact that he was locked in place only threatened to make him panic instead._

"Your little…" There was a brief flutter of cold lips on his ear, which caused Vincent to moan in despair as he realized who was being mentioned. "…carnal distraction. I can hear your thoughts, feel what you feel, and you…are losing…focus, Vincent."

"_Please," Vincent whispered, "leave him out of it. He knows nothing…"_

"_He doesn't _have_ to. Only _you_ matter to me, and you are straying from your path," purred the voice, and Vincent jumped when he felt the glacial impact of an intimate touch. "_He_ is making you stray. And I cannot have that. Not when we are so very close." Lips brushed his neck, and Vincent moaned again. "Get rid of him, Vincent, if not for me then for his own safety. Because I _will_ kill him. And you know it."_

And abruptly the presence was gone, freeing Vincent's limbs, and allowing him to fall to his knees. He put his face into his hands and sobbed.

Waking to find Vincent's warm body still beside him made Cid certain he was the happiest man in Midgar. For a long time he could only stare at the body that lay curled away from him, the dark hair draped over soft green pillows, his own darker arm around the pale waist. He could almost pretend they were lying outside in the sunlight after making love in the grass, regardless of who saw them, for all to know that they belonged together. He knew that could never be –for one thing, there was little grass in Midgar- and knowing that only made him want it more. Maybe he would take Vincent away from here after all, find a sunny patch of earth untouched by all this trouble- but Vincent would never be happy in such a simple life, would he? He was far too intelligent for that.

Cid pushed more hair away from the handsome face that showed emotion best, it seemed, when its bearer was sleeping. He kissed Vincent's cheek and sat up slowly, thinking over the night before and finding that he regretted nothing…but would Vincent feel the same way? Cid doubted he would. As he lowered himself back into a reclining position, he gently tugged the other man to rest on his chest and ran a hand through his hair. "I've meant it every time I've said I love ya, an' now I c'n only mean it more," he said quietly, and he could see Vincent begin to stir a bit. "Don't wake up yet," he whispered. "Y're gonna hurt me soon's ya do, so just sleep a little longer."

Whispered words ghosted over his ears as Vincent slowly came awake, and his voice choked in his throat with sorrow, making him whisper hoarsely, "But I don't _want_ to hurt you." _But I am afraid that I will…all too soon. _He snaked his arm around Cid's waist and held on to that warm, broad body under him. After the bone-searing cold of his dream, Cid's body was scorching hot, and he desperately needed to be warm, even if it was going to be for so fleeting a time as to be nearly negligible. His eyes fluttered open, and he stared at the wall for while, clinging shamelessly to Cid as denial flooded his body with false hopes and ill-placed dreams. When he left today, things would have to be reshuffled, lines redrawn and boundaries reset, but right now…right now, they only had each other. Pushing up on his arms, hair falling in a midnight curtain around them, he looked down into Cid's face, nearly losing himself in the blue of the man's eyes, a blue reminiscent of a sky that he hardly ever saw anymore. He feathered the backs of fingers over Cid's cheek before leaning down and forward to kiss Cid, hesitant at first, but quickly growing long and deep. When he pulled back, their lips only inches apart he whispered again, more strongly this time, "I don't _want_ to hurt you."

"Then don't. Don't try t'make me let you go again." He put his arms around Vincent, clinging to him with the same sort of desperation he'd seen in Vincent's eyes moments before. "I understand th'rest, an' I know it won't ever be…normal…but don't tell me t'give up on ya." He framed Vincent's face with his hands, beginning to sit up again. "I love you, an' that's all I'm gonna say about that this mornin'. Now how 'bout some breakfast? You, uh, c'n put yer pants back on when we get inta the kitchen, if y're more comf'table dressed.. I didn't think t'bring any of it with us." There was a box of pancake mix in the pantry, and Cid was suddenly very eager to show that he could make something successfully. "Y'take yer pancakes with chocolate 'r without?" he asked, standing and stretching before offering Vincent his hand.

Vincent flushed awkwardly at Highwind's repeated declaration, and clutched the sheet over his lap self-consciously. "Plain, please," he murmured, before taking a deep breath and placing his hand into the cop's, to leave the sheet behind as the man pulled him to his feet. Cid gestured for him to go first, which he did and made a straight line for the kitchen and his discarded pants and shirt from the night before, pulling them on and blushing furiously as he studiously avoided looking at the table. Backing up, he stood in the doorway and fiddled with the collar of his shirt uncomfortably. "Would you mind if I waited for you in the sitting room, Cid?"

Cid felt only a little guilty for admiring Vincent's backside as he walked behind him. It proved to be a dangerous pastime; he wanted very much to squeeze it, if not completely reenact the previous night's activities. He settled for sneaking covert looks at it and those long, pale legs as he found a suitable frying pan during the time when Vincent was bent over slightly to pull his pants onto his legs. He was sure Vincent had caught on when he asked to wait in the sitting room, but then he remembered that the table deserved a good scrubbing before holding food again. "No problem, Vincent. You jest make yerself comf'table, an' I'll bring out a big ol' plate when they're done. Where's that damned pan…?" he wondered aloud, remembering only after hitting his head that he kept it above the sink for convenience's sake.

Sighing, he grabbed the pan and began heating it while mixing the batter. It was a good thing Vincent hadn't wanted chocolate chips; after checking for them, Cid found that he had none. He pulled on his shorts after the first cake was in the plate, and then, daydreaming all the while, continued to produce a plateful of perfect pancakes, the one dish he had never yet failed to succeed in making. He carried them, the butter, two forks, a knife and the syrup out to Vincent and set them on the small, unsullied table in the living room. "There ya go," he said, contentedly plopping down beside his guest after just barely managing to not drop anything. "Help yerself. But first…kiss the chef?" he asked hopefully, grinning and nudging Vincent with his elbow.

Embarrassed and feeling trapped, Vincent acquiesced and leaned for to place a quick peck on Cid's lips, before retreated back to his little 'corner' of the couch. Now that he was coming more fully awake, his mind ruthlessly replayed everything that had happened the night before, and Vincent felt vaguely sick to his stomach and nervous. Had he not told himself that joining with Cid would be a point of no return? Despair then filled him, and he had to force himself to reach for his plate and actually managed to down his food before he carefully replaced the plate on the table, and drew his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. Resting his chin on his knees he couldn't help but think about the inappropriateness of this situation, the uncertainty and near-fear that followed those thoughts. Suddenly he wanted to go back to the Tower, back to the world that he knew, the faces that were familiar, the business that governed his life. He wanted to see Tseng's stoic face and Reno's cocky grin. Hell, even Rude's silent, statue-like presence and Verdot's psychosis was sounding better and better right now.

Cid kept eating slowly, watching Vincent from the corner of his eye. Any attempts at conversation had been met with pointed evasion, so eventually he had fallen silent. He wanted to comfort Vincent now, seeing what was most likely embarrassment take over the other man, but he was afraid that would make it all worse. "Y're welcome t'the shower if y'want it. I'd offer t'run yer clothes through the wash, but I reckon they're better quality'n that." Now he knew he sounded indifferent and nearly cold, and he wanted to remedy that very quickly. "I…I really wish y'didn't hafta leave. I really like it when y're with me, Vincent, an' I'm sorry if I ever make ya uncomf'table. Don't let me do that to ya, 'kay?"

Vincent nodded distractedly. "I appreciate it. I'll phone Tseng and have him bring over a fresh suit when he comes." He flicked his gaze over to Cid and immediately regretted it. He saw concern, hurt, but the worst was the _confusion_ deepening the premature lines on that rugged face. "Your company is not undesirable," he murmured before returning his gaze to the black television screen across the room. Finally the awkward silence became too much, and he stood up. Going into the room they had only recently vacated, he rummaged around in his discarded pants until he found his phone, flipped it open and hit the familiar speed dial button.

"Yes, sir?" came the instant greeting after one ring, and that rich voice was so welcome to Vincent's ears that he very nearly sobbed in relief.

"I'll be needing a ride back to the Tower, Tseng. And a clean suit, if you would be so kind," Vincent said softly.

"Are you all right, sir?" Tseng said, sounding concerned.

"Well enough. There is much that I need to discuss with you. We shall be having a busy week." He said.

"Very good, sir."

Vincent then flipped his phone shut, and stood. Taking a deep breath, he walked back out into the sitting area, noticing that Cid had not moved, and was looking sorrowfully pensive. Guilt wracked him mercilessly, twisting a knife right through his heart, but he knew it just had to be. Wordlessly he picked up his dirty plate and silverware, and carried them into the kitchen, where he rinsed them off, returning to the living room after first drying his hands. "Tseng is on his way now. If you have no further need of me, I-I'll just be taking a shower now." At Cid's dismissive wave of his hand, Vincent winced, and made his way into the bathroom. He needed to get himself under control.

After another few minutes of silent thinking, Cid rose and did his own dishes. He sighed heavily and leaned on both hands against the counter, looking into the shiny surface of the sink. Vincent had said his company was not undesirable, but it had sounded so forced, so untrue, that the attempt to make Cid feel better had only made things worse. _I shouldn't'a let things get outta hand last night. Shoulda just gone back t'bed like we said an' not kissed 'im like that an' let m'self get so worked up…_ Cid stopped his thoughts suddenly, realizing that he was considering regretting what they had done together.

Such regret was unforgivable, and he chased it away quickly. But...he did not regret the events, only the circumstances. He wished that Vincent were not so frightened by such encounters…he wished he could kill with his bare hands Shinra and every other bastard who'd taught Vincent to expect pain. He wished he were better with words so Vincent would understand the things he could not say. Knowing that wishing would get him nowhere, Cid simply curled up on the couch and quietly awaited Vincent's departure.

Finishing his shower, Vincent dried off and pulled his borrowed clothes back on. As he walked back out of the bathroom, he saw Cid on the couch looking heartbroken, and he had to turn right back around and go into the guest room. Clutching his chest at the sudden pain there, he staggered over to the bed and sat down to bury his head in his hands. This was all _wrong_! It hurt like nothing else ever had, no beatings from Rufus, no injury he ever sustained could compare to what he felt now. But those words from his dream, that sickly beautiful voice: _"Get rid of him, Vincent, if not for me then for his own safety. Because I _will_ kill him. And you know it," _made it abundantly clear that Cid had no place in his life. Because if he felt horrible now for hurting Highwind, then he would not be able to live with himself if Cid died because of his own selfishness. "Fuck you," he snarled, low and deadly. "You said you could hear my thoughts…" he looked up and was surprised to feel moisture on his cheeks. "_FUCK YOU!" _he shouted to the empty room, hoping to get his message across the infinite space of being and not-being. He knew the message was received when he heard a low, sadistic chuckle in the back of his mind, and Vincent moaned again. He was getting stronger, since Vincent could hear him now while he was awake, and he shivered, whispering one word. One word to sum up the misery that constricted his life to nothing but suffering, making him a slave to everyone else's will but his own: "Sephiroth."

Cid had miraculously not heard Vincent's outburst, so absorbed had he been in his own thoughts. He sat up quite suddenly, decided that he had no right to claim he loved Vincent if he just lay on the couch and waited for him to leave. Expecting rejection of the cruelest degree –but not at all prepared for it- Cid opened the door to the guest room and walked into it. He came to a stop just in front of Vincent, and was thrown very much off-guard by the look on his face. He seemed to be in pain, surely as much pain as Cid felt himself at the thought of losing this, but Cid still had no idea what to do to comfort him.

He chose not to try, and instead carefully lowered himself to kneel between Vincent's slightly parted legs. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms about Vincent's waist, leaning against him heavily. He had nothing to say, because words proved to be his enemies when he needed them most, so he said nothing. _Please don't leave while we don't know what t'do with each other. I love you._ Vincent's shirt bore the proof of the strength of his emotion; he and Vincent seemed to shed an awful lot of tears in each other's company. He hoped that would work itself out with time…if there was to be time at all.

Vincent shut his burning eyes and placed one hand on Cid's head, feathering his fingers through the wild blond hair and fisting there, hanging on in the only way that he knew how. "I don't _want_ to hurt you," he whispered raggedly, but knowing that in end he would. "But I would rather hurt you than see you die." _I'm so sorry, Cid._ He then wrapped his arms around the cop and curled his body over the man protectively. They remained like that until there came a loud knocking on the front door.

_And I'd rather die than see you hurt_, Cid had tried to whisper back, but no sound had come. When the knocking came, Cid held tighter, in denial of the end to this moment. When Vincent next walked out the door, Cid knew there was a great chance of never being able to hold him this way again, and he did not want to face that. He wanted to tell Vincent at least once more that he loved him, but that would only hurt the both of them, and besides, they both knew already. He stood slowly, regretfully, and turned to go to the door, again offering his hand to Vincent but unable to look at him.

Vincent took Cid's offered hand and let the man pull him to his feet, but he did not follow him to the door, electing instead to remain behind. He could only tell himself so many times that this was for the best before it just sounded fake. He watched Cid leave, listening to the brief, muffled conversation between the cop and Tseng and when his second arrived in the doorway, Vincent was staring sightlessly out the window.

"I have your suit, sir." Tseng said softly and laid the garment bag upon the bed before showing himself out, and shutting the door behind him.

Vincent turned then and walked over to the bed, and unzipped the bag, looking down at the familiar suit. He shook his head sadly, and slowly got dressed. When he finished tying his tie and buttoning his jacket, he felt only marginally better, locked away in his familiar prison. Until this moment, he hadn't realized just how much he had come to _need_ these clothes, to hide himself away from the world. He wore them like a shield. With considerable less care than Tseng had shown his garment bag, Vincent stuffed his rumpled suit, street clothes, gauntlet and Quicksilver into the duffel and zipped it up. Placing his fedora on his head, dark glasses in one hand, duffel in the other, he made one last sweep of the room and sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the world descend once again upon his shoulders. He exited the room, Tseng moving to his side to take the duffel from him and as a unit they moved to the door, Cid trailing after them. Tseng exited first and waited in the hallway while Vincent turned back and faced Cid, his heart in his eyes. The man looked fragile, brittle and he was afraid to touch him for fear the cop would fall apart. He leaned in close to Cid's ear and whispered, his voice shaking, "I'm sorry." He stepped back, placed his dark glasses upon his face and said evenly. "Goodbye, Mr. Highwind." He turned then, and without looking back preceded Tseng down the stairs and of the building to the waiting car.

Vincent's eyes and manner showed so much pain…pain that Cid had caused despite it being the last thing he wanted to do. He didn't know how to fix it for either of them, or if anything even needed to be fixed. Somewhere inside was the hope that it would all work out, but overwhelming proof to the contrary quickly smothered that hope. Cid, feeling empty, watched out the window with his hands pressed against the glass as the large black vehicle drove away.


	23. Chapter 23

Sorry for the delay! I didn't have the time/energy to edit the new chapters we were turning out, and both Cal and I refuse to put them out unedited.

* * *

Staring out the window listlessly, Vincent was quiet as the sedan purred along while Tseng deftly navigated in and out of traffic. How had things come to this? How had he _let_ them?

"What happened, Vincent," Tseng said. It was not a question, and did not leave him the option not to answer.

"I have done a great and terrible thing, my friend." Vincent said softly, miserably. When Tseng remained silent, Vincent forced himself to continue. "I hurt him. One of the last people in this rotten world that I would see hurt, and I did it. I have brought shame to what is left of my name…my home, my honor. There will be no redemption for this sin." He brought his arm up, propping it on the armrest and cradled his chin in his palm, fingers over his mouth.

"What did you do, Vincent," Tseng said softly, glancing back briefly in the rearview mirror.

"I broke his heart."

Tseng fell silent again. When he spoke next it was low, and Vincent had to strain a little to hear the man. "And did you have a reason to do that? Please tell me that you have not fallen so far as to be so dismissive with the feelings of others? Those whom you claim 'matter' to you?"

Vincent winced. Had he? It was a fair question. "He asks so much," Vincent breathed. "He asks things of me that I cannot give him, I dare not."

"What does he ask of you?"

"He asks for my favor, my…" Vincent broke off and swallowed hard. "Love," he finished, in a choked voice. "Though he has never outright asked me to declare it, the hints are there. He tells me he 'loves me', and I told him to let me go."

"That's unfair," Tseng said harshly. "What's so wrong with loving someone, Vincent? It is because he's a man? Or a cop? It is because of Lucrecia? What you've endured with Rufus?"

Vincent sat there, too stunned for words, as the color drained from his face and his mouth gaped slightly. What Tseng had just said _hurt_. Finally he found his voice, but it was breathless, as though he had been punched in the gut. "I can't believe you just said that to me. You had no right." His voice strengthened a little. "That was not…"

"Fair?" Tseng interrupted in a sneer. "Vincent, in case you haven't noticed, this _world_ is not _fair_. What you did to Mr. Highwind was not _fair_. What Rufus does to you is not _fair._ And Lucrecia being taken from you is not _fair_. But we have to survive somehow. Take our pleasure where we can. If you are offered something as precious as love, a _second time_ in one lifetime, you are a fool indeed to turn away from it." Tseng turned a corner, continuing as he straightened the wheel and accelerated. "Vincent, I look upon you like my brother, and to see you so miserable breaks what heart I have left. He's a man, so what. He's a cop, makes things more difficult, but if anyone can make it work, _you_ can. Rufus?" Tseng snorted in disgust. "I can only hope you see sense before the man kills you. And Lucrecia? Do you think she would be _happy _seeing you like this? Do you think you dishonor her memory by feeling for another?"

"Why are you doing this to me?" Vincent asked pleadingly. "Tseng…I need your support, not your hostility."

In the mirror, Tseng's expression softened. "Forgive me, _niisan_, but you need to hear this. Stop trying to carry everyone else's burdens, and _live_ a little. You've always had a noble heart, nothing will change that, but your nobility is hurting you."

"_Nobility_?" Vincent snorted. "Look at what I _do_, Tseng! _Nobility_ has no place in my life…not anymore."

Tseng smiled serenely. "You say that now, but your actions continue to prove you wrong. Look, Vincent, now is not the time to discuss this. I only ask that you think about what I've said. Think very carefully, and do not discount the possibility of finding happiness again. It's not impossible."

Vincent did not reply as he continued looking out the car window. Tseng didn't understand. He didn't understand that if Vincent allowed himself to love Cid, then Cid…would die.

Later that day, after indulging himself a bit in the way of comfort food, Cid called Lazard, whom he knew to be currently at lunch. When Cid heard the phone pick up, he sighed heavily and said, "So I'm done for."

After a returning sigh, Lazard answered, "Well, you knew it was coming. What did you do to finally push her over the edge?"

"What? No, not her. Him. Not him, Vincent. I just…shit, I'm just done for! He made me realize so much without even tryin'. I don't care anymore. I don't care about makin' it t'the top, or cleanin' up the city, or any o' that. Fer one thing, it'll just never happen an' I'm tired o' holdin' empty dreams. Fer another…I c'd never be with him an' have those things, an' he's so much more important. 'Course I'll never have 'im anyway, but at least this way I ain't contradictin' m'self."

"Cid…I would love to listen to you tell me all about your bad day, but I have to be back in my office and very attentive to my next visitor in ten minutes. Can I get the short of it rather than the long?"

"Y'just got it. I ain't headed fer the top, Lazard, an' I ain't gonna try anymore. I'm gonna get out, an' I'm gonna do somethin' else with m'life, somewhere else, if I c'n get 'im t'come with me."

Slowly, Lazard shook his head. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

"Wha?"

"Being in love. It feels wonderful."

"I…I imagine it feels much better when th'one you love doesn't walk away from ya." Cid's words were quiet, and the reality of what had happened today crashed in on him again. Vincent's apology had been permanent, not temporary, and he would never love Cid, never want to be with him. Wasn't he a fool for thinking it could be so in the first place? "Look, I gotta go. Gonna go inta work an' maybe give m'notice."

"Cid-" Lazard started, but was cut off when Cid hung up abruptly.

Cid set the phone on the table and returned to his curled position on the couch. Tomorrow. He would go in tomorrow. Today, he would clean up this place, then go lie in bed for a while where he could still smell Vincent and the scent of their kitchen activities from the night before. He would allow himself this one day to remember and mourn what might have been….tomorrow, he would start working again to make "what might have been" a reality.

"What did you want to talk to me about, sir?" Tseng asked, closing the door after him as he and Vincent entered Vincent's spacious office. The remainder of the ride back to the Tower had been in silence, and now that they were back in his office, Vincent felt the press of a more serious issue come crashing back down.

"While Cid and I were looking for Elena, we tracked her abduction to a warehouse," Vincent began, turning around to lean back against his heavy desk.

Tseng nodded. "And how does this qualify as 'serious', sir?"

"It's one of _mine_," Vincent said, and nodded when Tseng's expression grew concerned. "It gets worse." He held up two fingers. "Two words: Genesis Rhapsodos." Tseng groaned and sat down in one of the chairs in front of Vincent's desk. "Yeah. But that's not the best part." He pushed off of the desk to walk around it and sit down in his own chair. "When Cid and I got there we noticed vehicles parked outside, and _Rufus's_ was one of them, along with Scarlet and Rhapsodos."

"This is not good news, Vincent," Tseng said wearily.

"No, no it's not. But I say again…it gets worse." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. Folding his hands upon his stomach he arched an eyebrow. "Naturally, we could not just walk in through the front door, so we went around the side; you know, the one that has that brick half wall adjoining it? I broke into my own damned warehouse." Vincent snorted at that. "We crawled along the steel rafters and came across their little 'meeting'. It was Genesis, Scarlet, Rufus…and Azul."

"The Cerulean?" Tseng said in disbelief. "From the Syndicate?"

"The very same," Vincent confirmed, twisting a little in his swiveled chair. "I didn't know he was there until about half-way through what we heard of their meeting. I think he was mostly content to try and pit them against each other. The man's sick like that, from what I know of him, and then takes the side of the winner. But it disturbs me that he would associate with _Rhapsodos_, especially when he dislikes ShinRa so much. They were discussing assassinating the President…"

"Of _Midgar_?" Tseng said, shocked.

"…And then blaming the assassination on myself and Highwind."

"Like that would ever work," Tseng snorted, crossing his arms.

"It would if they had the authorities in their pocket. I have no doubt that Genesis has the upper plate in his, all he would need is Scarlet, and Rufus has _her_. But I cannot shake the suspicion that Genesis wants Rufus for something else…something that has to do with me _personally_." Vincent became silent, frowning in thought.

Tseng finally broke through his reverie with, "Well, whatever that is can wait. We need to alert Weiss and Nero to Azul's little betrayal. I imagine they won't be too pleased."

"You would be correct. Of course we run the risk that they sent Azul on purpose, but I'm skeptical with that seeing as Weiss and Nero trust Genesis about much as I love Rufus." Vincent spat softly. "So we call a meeting. Have Reno take a chopper to Modeoheim and pick them up. We'll meet in Healin, seeing as they won't feel comfortable meeting in Midgar."

"But why in person, sir?" Tseng said in confusion.

"Because I don't trust a video conference, nor one made over the phone. They'll appreciate the inconvenience when I tell them what I've told you." Vincent said, rubbing his face. "And I need your complete discretion with this, Tseng."

Tseng nodded. "And the Kisaragis?"

"There's no need to bring them into this if I can help it. This doesn't concern them as of yet, and if we can resolve this without involving them, all the better. Yuffie tends to get rather…"

"Enthusiastic?" Tseng said wryly.

"You might say that." Vincent said rolling his eyes. "But as it is, I would rather avoid said self-proclaimed 'ninja', _at all costs_."

"I couldn't agree with you more, sir."

Cid's last task for the day had been to call Aerith for some company. The "tidying up" had taken very little time, as it had been clean before he'd started cleaning, so it was not yet dark when he dialed her number. He was disappointed, but not altogether surprised, when he got only the answering machine of her home number. If she was out, he wouldn't trouble her with this. She would hear about it soon enough; he left a message, hoping she wouldn't rush to his apartment the second she got it, as she often tended to do. "Hey, Aer, s'me. I just wanted t'let y'know I'm prob'ly takin' a permanent vacation from work pretty soon. Tired of it, an' I don't have th'energy t'care anymore about what I used t'care about so much. You saw; I done let m'self fall. An' even if he don't think th'same way, he's all I c'n care about now, an' it comes down t'pickin' between him an' my old dreams or goin' on with both an' puttin' us in danger. An' hell, we'll be in enough danger w'just his position, won't we? So I'm pickin' him, an' I'll make it somewhere else. I dunno when I'll have time t'see ya, but know y're always welcome wherever I am."

That night, Vincent shut himself in his quarters and proceeded to dump the contents of his duffel onto his bed. Carefully placing the gauntlet and Quicksilver on his dresser, he returned to the bed to sigh down at his ruined clothes. He picked up his gray shirt and ran his fingers lightly over the now-dry bloodstains…Cid's blood. He had come so close to losing the cop that day, and the thought of that nearly made him physically ill. When had he come to care about Highwind so much? He hadn't seen it coming; his reaction had been proof of that. And then to have sex with him…Vincent winced. That had been about as memorable as finding a finger floating in one's soup. His behavior had been just about the most self-destructive it had ever been, and looking back he was nearly incapacitated by embarrassment. And _still _the cop had been patient, gentle…loving.

Guilt continued to eat at him as he tossed the clothes into a corner, and proceeded to shake out his hideously rumpled suit in preparation for having it sent to the dry cleaners in the morning. He began checking the pockets to empty them, and frowned when he got to his jacket pocket. Inside he found a scrap of paper. He pulled it out and unfolded it. What he saw stopped his heart, and caused his eyes to widen:

_Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle's compass come,_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom_

That had _not_ been in his pocket when he had arrived at Highwind's 'borrowed' apartment, which meant the cop had put it there. He read it again, and still one more time, his chin beginning to quiver and his eyes to blur. He closed his fist around the scrap of paper and brought it to his lips with a soft sob. "Oh, Cid," he breathed. The beast he had become was slowly being beaten back, not by fists or by chains, but by the tenacity of another man's love. When Vincent finally went to bed, he fell asleep with the scrap of paper with the messy handwriting clutched tightly in his fist.

Sleep had come slowly and reluctantly to Cid; he had slept so much the day before that his body protested. His mind, however, was yet again exhausted. He had not even begun to process what they had discovered in the warehouse, what it might mean, or Scarlet's plot and how it might play out. He had quite enough to worry him without all those things, and he pushed them aside yet again as he closed his eyes.

In another part of town that night, Aerith was surprised to see blinking red numbers on her home answering machine, and she rushed to check it immediately. She smiled when she heard Cid begin speaking, half-knowing already that what she would hear would somehow involve Vincent. The quality of Cid's voice, however, alerted her to the fact that this was not a happy call…and yet it was, in a way. Cid was free, free of the obligations only he had held himself to. He had experienced a major setback; Vincent had not openly returned his feelings, but Aerith knew that he would, in time. She had watched them, seen them interact and try to avoid interacting, and always they returned to each other. They would again, and when they did, Vincent would be free also.


	24. Chapter 24

Kay, guys, things are starting to get nasty for the boys. The next several chapters involve unpleasant experiences of various kinds, graphic descriptions of gore, etc. There's nothing in this chapter that I need to block off, but I'm warning you now about the upcoming ones. I may still cut out the worst of the scenes and direct you to Cal's version instead, just so I can preserve the eyes of those who don't want to read things like that.

Happy readin'!

* * *

Monday had come all too quickly. Rufus had been out of the building all day, a small blessing, and Vincent had spent that day setting up his meeting with Weiss and Nero. He had contacted Rosso, and given her a heads up that he requested her employers' presences in Healin the following day and that he was sending one of his personal helis to get them. She had been suspicious, naturally, but had agreed to pass on the word. His relationship with the Syndicate had improved greatly upon his rectification of a missing shipment of mako about a month back. He had sent more, at a cost to himself, along with a 'sincere' apology, which consisted of the man's head who had stolen from him. Weiss had then called personally to express his acceptance of the apology, and his (rather sick) delight in doing business with his 'brother' in Midgar.

Tuesday finally rolled around, and while Tseng flew him to their headquarters in Healin, Reno flew east to Modeoheim. Truthfully, Vincent would have preferred to send Tseng, but since his second was full Wutaian he didn't dare. Relations between the crime families in Modeoheim and Wutai were strained at best, and he didn't know _how_ he managed to keep the Syndicate and Kisaragis from killing each other during their quarterly meetings in Midgar. He had left word with Verdot that should ShinRa inquire about his absence that he would be tied up in meetings all day. Now he was standing at the window when Weiss and Nero walked into the modest conference room, looking out at a rather picturesque waterfall, lost in thought. When Tseng gently cleared his throat to get his attention, Vincent's eyes focused once more and he turned, smiling wanly. "Gentlemen, thank you for joining me on such short notice. Please, let's be seated." He held out an arm to the chairs across from him and the two men took them.

His skin always crawled when he had to face these two siblings. Nero was the easiest to take, but his silence was his greatest weapon. You never knew what the man was thinking, what with the unwavering way he stared at you. Weiss on the other hand, you _knew_ he was psychotic just by making eye contact. His wild gray-blue hair didn't help matters, nor did the rather animated way he spoke…when he chose to. These two men were men of few words, but decisive and violent in action. Vincent was immensely respectful of the power they wielded. Rosso stood across the room from Tseng against a wall, arms over her chest, eyes watchful.

"Most inconvenient, Mr. Valentine. Why did you ask us here?" Nero said softly; his voice accented and cultured.

"My apologies to all three of you," Vincent said sincerely, holding out his hands. "But this could not wait, nor could I trust the questionable confidentiality of a phone call."

Weiss blinked and growled under his breath, but Nero silenced him by holding up a hand. "Your concern is duly noted, Mr. Valentine, but we would hear of what has you so troubled."

Vincent nodded. "It has come to my attention, gentlemen, that the Syndicate has been conducting business in Midgar's lower plate without contacting me first, ergo, without my permission." He hated to be accusatory right off, but he had to know if his suspicions were correct or not, and the only way to do that was to confront these two right off.

"Careful, Valentine," Weiss said, pinning Vincent with a cold, deadly stare out of eyes so light a blue they were nearly white. Nero quickly placed a hand on Weiss's shoulder, which told Vincent just how close he had come to being throttled.

"What my brother is _trying_ to say is that such accusations that you are insinuating are highly insulting, Mr. Valentine. And one would hope that you would have proof to back that egregious hypothesis." Nero said calmly, but by the flicker in those near-red eyes, Vincent could tell that Nero too was close to acting upon his ire.

"Again, my apologies, gentlemen. No offense was intended, I only meant to gauge your level of knowledge with what I am about to tell you." Vincent hastened to smooth ruffled feathers.

"Continue." Nero said, gaze never wavering, and only with great effort did Weiss ease back into his chair.

Vincent nodded and began. "Not three days ago I had the misfortune, or perhaps fortune in this case, of unintentionally overhearing a meeting that was being held in one of my warehouses without my knowledge. This meeting was between a rival of mine, one you know of, Genesis Rhapsodos." At that Weiss turned his head and spat, and Nero actually sneered. "I see that you do. Moving on. The others partaking in this meeting were Rufus ShinRa, Scarlet – the head of the authorities of the lower plate, and Azul the Cerulean."

"You lie," Weiss hissed, leaning forward as Nero sat up straighter, his gaze sharpening.

"I do not." Vincent said softly meeting their eyes in turn, unflinchingly. "I saw him with my own eyes, and heard him with own ears. It was also witnessed by one other."

"And you did not bring this 'other' with you to corroborate your claim?" Nero asked suspiciously.

"No," Vincent said firmly. "He knows nothing of our relationship, or of the business that we conduct, and I saw no reason to involve him beyond what he already was."

"Continue," Nero said, while Weiss twitched in his seat. "You said you heard him? What was said?"

"I did not hear much, as my business was of another nature, but what I heard troubled me greatly. They spoke of assassinating the President of Midgar." Vincent said levelly. "And pinning that killing on myself and the other man who also witnessed this conversation."

"That's a very serious accusation, Mr. Valentine. What would assassinating the President gain these men?" Nero asked.

"By eliminating the President, it would open his seat in the government and anyone with enough pull, or enough officials in their pocket, could claim it. In effect they would control the entire city. Azul's role in this is unknown, but I felt that you should be warned should the man stage his own coup upon your control in Modeoheim. With the power of Midgar backing him, he would succeed. Of which you are aware," Vincent said seriously.

"You risk your life by telling us this, Mr. Valentine. Why?" Nero said softly.

"Because I did not work as hard as I have to build a relationship between our two organizations to have it destroyed by rot within. We have an agreement between us all that _benefits_ us all, and that would be torn apart if Rhapsodos were allowed to gain control over the plates. Let me ask you this, would you rather deal with me, or him?" Vincent asked, leaning forward for emphasis.

"Now you ask stupid questions!" Weiss snorted, tapping agitatedly with a finger upon the table.

"Easy, brother. Even you cannot deny the risk Mr. Valentine has taken in coming to us with this information." Nero turned back to Vincent. "What makes you think you were not _meant_ to hear this conversation? That you are not being played?"

"I know not," Vincent answered. "And that is the truth. Mr. ShinRa knows that on weekends I conduct personal business and as a result am not aware of his actions. So I can only conclude that I was, in fact, _not_ meant to hear the discussion between these parties. My only real concern to the contrary would be the clear lack of judgment in choosing that location for their meeting. But Mr. ShinRa is not exactly known for his _good judgment_."

"I agree." Weiss said, and then looked over at Nero and back again to Vincent, appearing to have calmed somewhat. "Then that just leaves us one thing to do."

Vincent raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Deciding what we do next," Nero said with finality. And Vincent knew that this would be a very long day indeed.

"Finally decided to show up, did you, Highwind? Good. I've got a job for you."

Cid raised an eyebrow. This shouldn't be so easy. Scarlet should be angry at him, threatening…but instead there was just a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. "An' what job might that be?"

"I need you to find someone for me. He's a known criminal, and we got a call saying he took some money in return for some goods he'd brought in, and then snuck the goods right back out with him! Don't look at me like that; it was a setup," she snapped, as if Cid had accused her of being in the drug market. As it was, he had a sinking feeling.

"Where might I find this fella?"

"Well, that's your job, isn't it? Rio Ferrare, known most widely as "Spike;" we've had a bit of trouble with him before, stealing and things, but we needed what he had this time for part of the operation."

Cid knew that she knew that he knew she was lying. "Well, do ya at least have a file on 'im 'r somethin'?"

"Of course there's a file on him." Scarlet handed him a folder two inches thick. He sighed. "You'll look over that today, and tomorrow you start looking for _him_." She smiled sweetly again. "You'll report back to me every night, and I expect good news by Thursday. If not…well, frankly, Highwind, you've been little more than a bother to keep around. I'll be sure someone gets some use out of you before you leave." She walked away before Cid could announce that when he left, it would be of his own free will…and it would be soon.

He sat down and looked at the fat folder, afraid to open it. He knew he would recognize the man in the pictures he would find, and he knew what it meant. Scarlet knew they had been there, somehow, and was going to make sure he knew not to cross her again. "Well," he said, "that ain't gonna be a problem, 'cause I'm gettin' th'hell outta here."

As Cid sat there, Zack walked past and gave a theatrical jump at the sight of Cid. "Whoa, man, we all thought you died or somethin'! The hell are you doin' here?"

"Aw, shut up," Cid grumbled, whacking Zack with the folder and then bringing it up to his own forehead, knocking his glasses askew in the process.

"What, she finally sendin' you in t'see the big guy? Lemme warn ya, he doesn't listen to reason, and he takes orders directly from her, I mean step by step. Way she hates you, I'll be surprised if he doesn't break every bone in yer body one by one." Fair stopped to snicker, then patted Cid on the shoulder. "But hey, you're tough. You'll live through most of it." He walked away looking even jollier than before, and Cid wondered if it really felt so great to revel in other people's misery. He never really saw the appeal in it himself.

"I hate people," he groaned, and left the building, folder in hand.

The next day, he was roused quite early by a knock on his door; Tifa greeted him when he opened it. "Scarlet says you're not trustworthy on your own, so you get me for a partner this time." She grimaced. "Just don't smoke on the job, okay? I can't stand the smell."

Cid made a noncommittal sound and a vague gesture for her to wait inside while he dressed. _Dammit. Ain't like I don't already know where 'e is. Only I can't take it easy 'til we find somethin' solid now, 'cause I got this 'un taggin' along b'hind me…_ He threw on some rumpled, possibly unwashed clothes and rejoined Tifa in the living room. "Let's go. I've heard of 'im b'fore; got a gen'ral idea where we might wanna start lookin'. Ain't no place fer a lady, though. I dunno what they're thinkin', sendin' you in there."

"Thinking I'm probably more useful in a fight than you," she answered smugly, and Cid had to admit that she had a point. "Sector five slums?"

"Yep. Nasty place. Real nasty place," he said redundantly.

"No kidding." Tifa rolled her eyes, then huffed and began preparing to drag Cid from the apartment and down the stairs; this man certainly didn't move very quickly.

They spent the day asking for information around Spike's recently vacated apartment. The scant knowledge the day yielded pointed, at least, in the same direction despite the variety –and doubtful conditions- of people they had approached: Spike had disappeared not too long ago after two men had come around looking for him. When asked about his business endeavors, most just shrugged or refused to answer, but one man was feeling loose enough to say that he had been talking about pawning off his latest ex. Tifa, disgusted, had become quite enraged after that, and they had spent the rest of the day asking about this ex. They had split up, sure that people would be more willing to speak to Tifa without Cid's presence.

When they met again at the end of the day, Cid confided that he had found the girl, and that she was fine. It was a stupid move, but this way he could at least make it appear that they had searched diligently. He told Tifa that the girl, who wished to remain anonymous to avoid further trouble, had escaped after being delivered. Tifa was still rankled; Spike had received the money anyway, and they were no closer to finding him. He said that they should check around the warehouse where the girl claimed to have been held, not to mention bring the girl in as proof. Cid pointed out that such things weren't really necessary in the Midgar system anymore.

Cid knew there would be no body, no evidence, of Spike's demise, and no reason to search the place where he'd been killed anyway. From any angle, the man appeared to have vanished from the face of the earth, and Cid knew he would never be able to prove his death without confessing to his involvement in the whole affair. For what was certainly not the first time in his life, Cid Highwind was well and truly screwed.

They reported their day's work later and filed the proper paperwork, Cid still refusing to name the girl. They set out for the warehouse early the next day, and Cid felt only a little guilty for breaking onto Vincent's property. When they had split once again to explore, Cid found something he could only assume had been left on purpose: the hat Scarlet had been wearing that day when he and Vincent had witnessed the meeting. He considered dragging Tifa in with them, but decided it was better not to. He left it untouched, still on the floor where it had been lying. What he was going to do about it he would decide later. He didn't think blackmail would be effective (or a wise decision), but alerting Lazard to what they had seen, and leaving the room in the same condition the members of the meeting had left it in—well, he'd talk to Vincent first.

Even with all that had happened, Cid still couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing Vincent again the coming Friday. He found Tifa, and discovered with much relief that she had not found anything except a dead dog.

"Well, it's late. We better get back," he said after they had asked everyone in the vicinity of the warehouse about Spike. No one had heard of him, and Cid was glad for that. Tifa seemed to find it fishy.

"I'd like to talk to this girl, make sure you got the right information and that she's not lying or hiding anything."

"She's not," Cid said. "B'lieve me, but don't ask how I know. A' right?"

Suspicious, but willing for some reason to believe Cid –perhaps it was the weary expression on his face, or the heavy sigh he released with his statement- Tifa just nodded and was silent as she drove them back to the station.

Scarlet was very much unhappy with the two of them when they regretfully informed her that no one else seemed to know anything about Spike, and that no other aliases had turned up. "You've got until tomorrow to bring me something."

When, by the next evening, they had not, Scarlet shook her head and said, "Lockheart, this is the first time you've failed me. I'm willing to accept that Highwind dragged you down. As for you," she said, turning to Cid, "you've run out of chances, Highwind. Wallace!" she called, and a large, muscular, dangerous-looking man entered her office, face set in a rough, animal grin. "This is Mr. Highwind. I know you've been waiting a long time to meet him. I'm sure you'll get along very well."

The next thing Cid knew, he was being lifted off the ground and carried away. "Hey, what th-"

"I suggest, Highwind," Scarlet said coldly, "that you behave yourself and don't struggle too much. If you do as you're told, we may consider keeping you on the force after all."

"Fuck the force," Cid grumbled, "an' fuck you!" He was then abruptly tossed into a cold room he had never known existed, and Wallace was bearing in on him, that same grin still in place. _Dammit, I shoulda gone fer blackmail after all…_

When he left later that night, he did not walk away unaided.


	25. Chapter 25

**READ**: Guys. NC-17ish chapter. Violence, blood, gore, torture, unpleasantness. Not even kidding.

I couldn't find a way to cut it out without ruining the chapter entirely, so I'm just warning you about it instead. Don't blame me for traumatizing you at the end of it. Thanks.

* * *

It was disgusting, all of it. The way the crowd fawned over him, the way the old man hung on his every word. Sickening. Rufus shut off the TV with a click that was followed by the bang of the remote being slammed onto the desk. It was a Thursday. Who planned things like this on Thursdays? Foolishness. And the old man- he was such a waste of space. Who had granted him power anyway? He had no idea what went on in Midgar, the place he was supposedly in charge of running. So much went on right under his nose, in "his city." "His people" were so corrupt, even in the upper plates. Midgar ran on money, and money surpassed all values. With it, one could buy power, loyalty, prestige…at the risk that someone with more money would later do the same. The old man still thought that Midgar ran on its founding principles, the idiot. Oh, he was an idiot… He was probably oblivious even to the existence of ShinRa Pharmaceuticals. One thing he was decidedly aware of was the young man who had spent the majority of the evening with the elder's arm about his shoulders, the one responsible for protecting dear old _Daddy_ from the horror of everything below the top of the tower. Rufus sneered. The pair of them, fools…but he'd take care of them. Oh, yes, he'd take care of them…it should have been him, after all. _He_ knew how to run an empire. He'd built one of his own here; that was proof enough. Old man Deusericus and his proper, upstanding son- they had no idea what it took. They had not the ability to instill fear in the hearts of their subjects. Nothing could ever get done if one played by the rules. Rufus knew this. And when he took his rightful place at the top, everyone would know it.

It would have been his if not for the older Deusericus, would have been his by right, and by blood. Not, Rufus thought, sneering, that blood had come to much for him anyway.

"_You're not _really_ my brother, you know," nine-year-old Lazard Deusericus informed the small boy seated in the tire swing he was pushing. "If you were, you wouldn't have a different last name."_

"_So?"_

"_Sheesh. Kids don't get anything. You're so dumb, do you know that?"_

"_I am not!" Rufus argued, but some niggling, hidden thought cried that he _was _as dumb as Lazard said, and that not really being his brother somehow made all the difference in the world._

"_Yeah? Well, we'll see, I guess," Lazard snickered, and began pushing the swing again. He watched Rufus' face as the swing went higher and higher until the smaller boy looked as if he were about to cry._

"_That's enough," he started, calmly enough. When Lazard did not stop and only pushed with more force, Rufus started yelling. "I said that's enough! Stop it! It's going too high!" Soon he _was_ crying, but Lazard was _still_ pushing him, higher and higher, and-_

Rufus was awakened from the flashback by the sound of the television snapping back on. He had pounded his fist on the desk and accidentally hit the remote, turning on the television, which was now airing a recap of today's much-broadcasted meeting between President Deusericus and his _only son_, the number one district attorney in Midgar, who was now in charge of two separate sectors after the resignation of Sector Three's former idiot DA, Ruber Kotch.

Disgusted all over again, Rufus shut off the television with a sigh.

He'd broken his arm that day by jumping off the swing when Lazard still refused to stop. He'd wet himself first and cried a good while before finally summoning the nerve to jump. As soon as the doctor had left him, his father had come in and scolded him for being so foolish. "I don't have time for you to keep hurting yourself," he had said, "and Lazard stopped soiling his clothes when he was three. You've no call to still be doing it." Gone then were the brief, hopeful thoughts of six-year-old Rufus Shinra, thoughts that had him believing that maybe now Lazard would be punished and he, Rufus, would be cared for, waited on hand and foot. As for Lazard, he'd gotten off with a quick, almost affectionate, "Keep a closer eye on him from now on, son. It's a busy time for us, no? And he's a fool; he'll be jumping off the roof next just for the attention."

At that moment, Rufus decided he would be no one's fool, and that he would never again be a weak idiot of a child. Yes, he supposed it was that very day that he decided _he_ would be the one to win his father's favor…it had been twenty-two years now, and that goal had been proven impossible long ago. There was only one alternative: _force_ him to see the potential in his younger son.

And he _would _see it. He would see it soon, close up, and if Rufus had his way, it would also be the very last thing he ever saw.

He sneered again. Both of them. He'd get both of them. But he'd have to wait…far too long for his liking. He'd built up far too much frustration today, wallowing in his memories like some woman. If he had to wait, he would find another way to release today's tension.

He buzzed Tseng. "When next you see Vincent, he is to report to his office and await further instruction from me." Not that Vincent would be able to make it to his office…and he certainly wouldn't be going anywhere else for quite some time.

When Vincent had returned from his meeting with the Syndicate, Rufus had been nowhere to be found. And when he _had_ seen the man, Rufus had been jumpy and nervous, which in turn had made Vincent skittish. He was getting very tired indeed of startling at every strange sound and random shadow. His suspicion that Rufus might have been tipped off as to his whereabouts the weekend past, was making him skulk around the building like an escaped convict, and he didn't know how much longer he could take the anticipation of being "caught."

It was all to come to a head the day before he was to meet with the cop for their scheduled "payment" for the mako he was receiving.

Vincent was walking down the hallway toward his office, having just gotten back from a "collection" run with Reno and Rude when there came a blinding flash of pain as something impacted the back of his skull, sending him to the floor, unconscious. He woke up slowly shortly thereafter, blinking his eyes rapidly as his vision swam and nausea threatened to choke him. He gradually became aware that he was chained, completely nude, from the shackles Rufus had installed in the ceiling in his 'special' quarters for just this purpose. They were set wide enough apart and high enough so that he hung very painfully, and with the most amount of unnatural force upon his arm sockets. Vincent winced and couldn't help but squirm a little bit as he futilely attempted to get more comfortable. Something flaked off onto the flesh of his wrists and he realized that it was dried blood…_his_ dried blood.

He caught movement off to his right, and he turned his head toward it, hissing and shutting his eyes as the room swam sickeningly around him. Perversely, he felt a wave of relief flood through him at the fact that something was _finally_ happening. "What is this? What's going on?" he rasped from a throat that desperately wanted water.

"Where were you last weekend, Vincent?" asked Rufus in a deceptively silky voice.

The room was dim, made so on purpose, so Vincent had to squint to see Rufus, which only made his headache worse. "What are you talking about?" He knew exactly what Rufus was talking about, but the man would not be getting anything from him. It was a real shame that ShinRa didn't realize this by now.

"Don't be stupid, you know exactly what I'm talking about, Vincent," Rufus said with irritation. He finally moved into Vincent's line of sight.

Rufus wasn't wearing his normal outfit of leather straps and decorative chains. Instead he was dressed in one of his impeccable white suits, and Vincent had a sinking feeling that this little 'meeting' was going to end very, _very_ badly for him. "No, Rufus, I don't. You know I tend to personal business on the weekends, as it happens I was actually meeting with a business associate."

"The cop?" Rufus asked quietly.

Vincent swallowed nervously. Rufus knew. He needed to be extremely careful what he said next or he would be risking Cid's life, yet again. He felt a prickling at the nape of his neck as he broke out into a cold sweat. He hoped Rufus wouldn't notice that. He had managed to perfect the art of keeping his expression completely unreadable, but sweat did not lie. "Yes…the _cop_. And not the first _cop_ I've conducted business with, nor will it be the last." Vincent was careful to affect a bored tone to his voice.

Rufus nodded and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Then where you, and the _cop_?"

"And I say again: that is _personal_." Vincent bit out through clenched teeth. "What I do with my personal time, is just that. I don't ask you where you go when you leave the Tower, do I?"

"That would be because it's none of your business." Rufus glowered.

"Which is exactly my point," Vincent said harshly.

"But _I_ am your employer, I'm not required to tell you where I go," Rufus spat back.

"No, but I was not 'on the clock', therefore, not required to tell you either," Vincent said calmly, when in fact he wanted to yell at the man. "When have I ever betrayed you, Rufus?" He asked bluntly, startling ShinRa into actually backing up a step. It was such a vague, yet telling question that it was safe to make and it was also the closest he dared to get to revealing what he knew, and Rufus knew that. He could see the fear in those cold blue eyes. Genesis must have put the squeeze on Rufus, and with Azul backing that threat up, Vincent would _not _want to be ShinRa right now. He almost pitied the man. ShinRa only had circumstantial evidence that he was in the vicinity of that warehouse, and it was poorly circumstantial at that…

Rufus backed up until he bumped into his black cabinet. He reached behind himself and lifted the latch, opening it, then turned to rummage around inside. Vincent shivered as he felt a drop of sweat roll down his back. He knew what was kept in that cabinet. When Rufus turned back around he held a coiled whip in his hand. Vincent's breathing quickened, and he began to struggle again, twisting and writhing in his chains as Rufus walked closer, tapping the barbed-wire whip on his thigh, never taking his eyes from the horrid tool of pain. "No," he breathed, panting like a cornered animal. "_Please_, no…"

"I'll get the information from you one way or another, Vincent. What's your choice?" Rufus purred evilly.

Cid, he had to protect Cid. He had to keep quiet; it was the only way to fight the plot against himself and the cop. "I've told you that I don't know what you are talking about."

"I thought you'd say that, Valentine." Rufus said with satisfaction, letting the long coil of whip unravel.

ShinRa had used this whip only once before. Once had been enough for the both of them, and had left Vincent with the few scars that he had. Now, there would be more.

"I'll ask you again, Vincent. Where were you this weekend?"

"And my answer will not change," Vincent gasped, and clenched his teeth together as Rufus lashed him again, and again. In the end, the only way Vincent managed to keep silent was to picture Highwind's gentle, smiling face, the soft way the man had touched his body…and it brought him peace within this maelstrom of pain.

The sadistic question-and-answer session continued for twenty more agonizing minutes until Vincent was left covered in blood from head to foot, and amazingly still conscious, and Rufus, white suit splattered with gore, had dropped the whip, shaking and pale, to wipe his mouth and back up. "So be it," ShinRa said, and left the soundproofed room. He pulled up sharply when he ran into Tseng and snarled, "Cut him down." Then proceeded to lock himself in his office.

Tseng, swallowing in trepidation, walked up to the door to Rufus's private quarters and eased it open. He took one look at Vincent's mangled body and put his clothed sleeve over his mouth and nose, gasping, "Leviathan protect us!" He turned and exited the room, pulled out his PHS and dialed Reno's number. When the redhead picked up Tseng said brokenly, "Bring a blanket to Mr. ShinRa's quarters, now. Stop whatever it is you are doing and get here." He hung up and re-entered the room.

As he approached Vincent's body, he was terrified that his friend might be dead, but when Vincent looked up at him out from under matted, bloody strands of hair, he didn't know whether to be grateful or disappointed that Vincent had survived. "Get the others," Vincent growled raggedly. "Tell them to meet in my private quarters…now." Then fell mercifully unconscious.

There then came a hesitant knock on Rufus's door. Reno had indeed been quick. Tseng cracked the door open and said shakily. "Get the others, and have them come to Vincent's quarters. Tell them it's urgent, and to report immediately."

Reno, face pale, nodded and said, "Is the boss all right? I mean, he's not-"

"Don't ask questions, Reno, just go…_now_." Tseng said softly in a voice that brooked no argument.

Reno nodded, and hurried off. Tseng, blanket in hand, walked back over and unchained his friend, catching the limp body in the blanket and wrapping it up protectively. Then, clutching his friend's body to his chest, made his way back to Vincent's quarters.

By the time the others were gathered in varying degrees of unease in the common room of Vincent's apartment, Vincent had woken up and together the two of them had gotten the blood off by means of a cool shower. Tseng had to strip to the waist in order to help keep Vincent propped up, but they had managed. The wounds had finally clotted, leaving savage-looking cuts all over Vincent's body, and one angry slice down the left side of Vincent's face when he had not managed to turn his head away in time. Slowly, and with Tseng's help, he had managed to pull on a light pair of sleep pants, but he could not bear anything to touch his chest and back.

"They're here, Vincent," Tseng said softly, stroking his friend's hair. "Just as you requested."

"Hand me my canes," Vincent said wearily. "I'll speak to them on my own two feet."

Tseng nodded and retrieved Vincent's two ivory-handled canes from the man's closet, and with a short, soft cry of pain, Vincent eased onto his feet. Gripping the canes, one in each hand, he managed to hobble out to talk to his men. When Rude, Reno and Verdot saw the state their boss was in, the first reaction was pure, unadulterated rage. Rude had to hold Reno back from stalking out to kill Rufus at that second, but the strangest reaction came from the slightly psychotic Verdot. The brown-haired man raised his chin and actually looked _proud_. Vincent dismissed the expression for the time being and met each of their eyes evenly. "Gentlemen," he said slowly. "The time has come for me to end my association with ShinRa."

That was met with, "About fuckin' time," from Reno, a relieved nod from Rude, and a cruel smile from Verdot. Tseng remained silent. Vincent lifted his hand slightly and they all fell quiet again. "Now you all have a decision to make. You have two choices. One: You can leave. I shall give you all enough money to start a new life; the gods know you all have more than earned it. The only stipulation is that you leave Midgar. And two: you can stay with me. I would welcome the help as I have come to respect each and every one of you and your talents. I would offer to let you stay with Rufus-" he was interrupted by rude noises of disbelief and disgust from the others, and he smiled wanly- "But I know how you feel about Mr. ShinRa. Think carefully about your answer. I'm offering you a way out. No strings attached, no debts, no questions. That's more than you would get from anyone else."

He was met with silence, and then Verdot stepped forward to stand in front of Vincent. He placed his hand over his heart and said in his deep, lazy voice. "I bleed for no man but you, Vincent. We'll go to hell together."

Vincent chuckled, wincing as he put a hand on Verdot's shoulder. "And I shall be glad for the company, my friend." He looked at Rude and Reno as Verdot took his place beside Vincent. "And you two?"

"Where 'm I gonna go, boss?" Reno said stepping forward, looking first at Verdot, then at Vincent. "A gutter rat like me don't know nothin' about livin' a straight life, yo." Reno was so shaken by what he had seen and heard that he had slipped back into his street dialect. "Ya gave me a chance, 'n this," he gestured to the men in the room, "is home fer me now. I'm stayin' with you."

Vincent, moved, could only nod and smile gently as Reno came over to stand by Verdot, grinning sheepishly as Verdot clapped him on the back with a nod. He looked next to the big man, Rude. Rude stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at the floor, appearing to be lost in thought. Finally he looked up and removed his glasses, meeting Vincent's eyes levelly. "Reno's right, sir. We all were nothing when you found us. Verdot was drinking himself to death, Reno was one knife fight short of a cut throat and me, huh. I had so many small-time mako dealers gunning for me that I didn't dare set foot out my tiny bit of turf. You gave us a second chance, and now look." He held out his arms. "We're the reigning power in Midgar."

Vincent chuckled quietly. "The Lower Plate."

"For now." Was Rude's stoic reply. "I'll stay with you, sir." And remained where he stood.

Vincent nodded, then looked over at Tseng. "And what about you, my friend? Don't wish to return to Wutai? Leave all this death and dishonor behind you?"

"You don't need to ask me that question, Vincent, because you already know the answer." Tseng replied softly.

Vincent nodded. "So we remain together. So be it." Vincent shifted uncomfortably. He desperately wanted to sit down, to rest. But business came first. "Now gentlemen, we must put our heads together, and decide how best to take down the giant."


	26. Chapter 26

Nothing for this one except some graphic/semi-graphic descriptions of wounds. Enjoy!

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Cid had arrived home Thursday, bleeding and bruised, supported by Aerith. He had gone to sleep then and woken up some hours later to an empty, unpleasantly bright apartment. A shaky excursion to the kitchen led him to notice a fairly small box on the table. He had moved it from his doorway Wednesday night without a second thought; he was surprised he hadn't tripped over the thing. He'd resolved to take a closer look at it later, but only just now getting around to that, so busy had his week been. Cautiously, he approached the box. Why would anyone leave…

Wednesday had been his birthday. Had he been so stressed, so consumed by the ongoing strife around him, that he had forgotten his own birthday? Someone, then, must have remembered. _Prob'ly Shera_. Suddenly excited despite his exhaustion, like a child, Cid sat down and performed a long-practiced paradox as he carefully tore into the package. Inside, he found a rose, and he stared at it for a while before picking it up to read the tag. Hands shaking as the note's message sank into his consciousness, he carried the rose to the sink, filled a plastic cup with water, and set it inside, wishing for a vase or something that better suited it. Taking his seat again, he looked at it. Red. A red rose, red for blood, for love…for Vincent. The note, which he'd slipped off the stem, still lay on the table. It read simply, "Happy Birthday, V.," but the fact that Vincent had remembered –and it must be from Vincent, just _must_ be- was enough to warm Cid's heart and put the hope back into it. Red, for love, and a single rose to promise that there would be no other.

Still in the box sat a chain with dog tags. He searched over and over for engraving of some kind, but found none. A blank slate, then; an empty page on which to write their love. He would, in time, but for now he carried them back to bed with him, search for food ended with the discovery of some crackers. Cid slipped them over his neck slowly and fell asleep clutching them in one hand after taking another over-the-counter pill for the pain.

When next he woke, it was late Friday afternoon, and he was exhausted, but didn't dare call off his meeting with Vincent lest he miss the chance to see him for another two weeks –or four, perhaps, if Vincent collected on the extra mako, Cid thought, but then remembered that he had instead traded it for a kiss. It was that kiss that was on his mind as he drifted back to sleep, shirt tossed to the floor and pants halfway off his legs. The doorbell rang some hours later...and then rang again and again and once more and finally, Cid woke. "What the-?" He stood, stumbled on his pants, kicked them off completely, and stiffly shuffled to the door as quickly as possible. His glasses had been broken the night before, and their current taped-together state made it difficult to focus, so he simply set them aside. Upon opening the door, a look of shock momentarily crossed his face but was replaced quickly with the same grogginess he had shown before. "Vincent..." he started, smiling in relief despite the way the gesture pulled at his split lip, "hey. C'mon in. M'sorry, were ya waitin' long? I went an' fell asleep. I don't have dinner t'offer ya this time, but Lazard sent s'more o' that wine over if'n y'wanna help yerself. Aw, hell, Vincent, you don't look any better'n I feel. I really shoulda called off t'day, huh?" he asked, then shook his head. "No, I needed t'see ya. C'mere an' sit with me; let's hold each other a little while. We don't hafta talk about it.

Tseng had _tried_ to get him to call off the meeting with Highwind, but Vincent had refused. He had refused because not only had he made a deal, and he never backed out of a deal, but also right now he _needed_ to _see_ Cid. He needed the calming effect the man had on him more than anything. That morning, Vincent had carefully dressed in one of his softer suits, mindful of the deeper cuts that were very much still angry and raw though the minor ones had healed, and had made his usual visit to the sanatorium. He moved slowly, carefully, and suavely deflected the concerned questions made by the various nurses he encountered in regards to the ragged-looking cut on his face. He sincerely hoped that one would not leave a scar. When Tseng had dropped him off at Highwind's apartment building later that afternoon, on into early evening, he had given Vincent a small bottle of salve.

Vincent had taken it and blinked in surprise. "What is this?"

Tseng snorted. "It's for your cuts, sir. Try and put some on them tonight. It'll help prevent more scarring and reduce the pain."

Curiously, Vincent had unscrewed the lid and taken a sniff, jerking back when the heavy floral scent hit him. "I am _not _putting this on, it smells positively horrid."

At that, and at Vincent's expression, Tseng had actually laughed. "It's my grandmother's recipe. You remember her, don't you?"

Indeed he did; the tiny little Wutaian woman was an herbal medicinal guru. If Tseng said it would help then it would help. Vincent sighed in resignation, replaced the cap and slipped the bottle into his pocket. "Fine," he grumped. "But if I get teased for smelling like an old woman, then I'm coming after you."

"I can live with that, sir," Tseng said with a residual chuckle. "Go on, I'll pick you up in the morning."

Vincent had opened his mouth to say something in reply, but just closed it again in resignation when Tseng raised an eyebrow at him. Now, Vincent stood in the doorway of Cid's apartment and gaped at the cop, who had answered the door in his boxers. Highwind's face was a mass of bruises, and small nicks that made it look as if his face had been used as a punching bag. There was also an angry-looking purple/green/black bruise around the right side of the man's ribcage and he would be surprised indeed if the cop's ribs hadn't been cracked. Cid's back was in hardly any better shape, what with the roadmap of color he saw there. Vincent was filled with a sudden rage that someone had hurt Cid. If he ever found out who did it, that individual would need to be fitted for a body bag. He stalked into the apartment, tossing his coat over a kitchen chair with a little wince as a scab over one cut was stretched painfully, then walked up to put his hands on either side of Cid's face, completely unmindful of Highwind's request. "What happened?" He said sternly. "_Who_ did this to you?"

"Hey, hey, watch th'face…an' I reckon I don't hafta ask who did that t'you," he said jerking his chin in the direction of the cut on Vincent's face. "Shit, I underestimated, didn't I? You look a hell of a lot worse than I feel. No 'fense." Vincent's dynamic yet casual entrance into the apartment had made Cid grin all the wider; Vincent finally understood that he belonged here. With that smile had come bravado, overwhelming to the point of idiocy. It faded, however, as he took note of Vincent's wincing and flinching. "Bastard," Cid said. "Vincent, when you…when y'kill 'im, 'cause I sure hope y'will, do it quick. I'd love as much as anyone t'see ya make 'im hurt as much as he's made you hurt, but do it quick so he don't get the satisfaction o' thinkin' that he's made you into a monster like him, thinkin' you like causin' pain as much as he does. Plus, th'sooner he's outta this world, th'better off it'll be."

He had no right to offer such advice, he knew, but he had the feeling that it would not anger Vincent. If he did not choose to heed it, he would at least tolerate Cid's nosiness. "Now don't worry about me. I had it comin' a long time. Not t'say I just laid down an' took it, o' course, but there ain't no fightin'll do th'trick 'gainst a guy twice yer size an' well-laid plans t'fuck ya up real good." The grin was back as he lifted a hand to rest on the right side of Vincent's face, the unmarked side. "I missed you," he murmured. "An' thanks fer the tags. I ain't figgered out what t'put on 'em yet, but it'll be somethin' good." He wanted to hold Vincent, but he decided quite quickly that doing so would cause pain for the both of them, and while he would gladly bear his own, he would not inflict it upon Vincent. Instead, he took one of Vincent's hands in his own and kissed it. "Is there anything I c'n do for ya?"

Taken a little aback by Cid's casual referral to Rufus's implied death at his hands he took a step back, and pulled his hand from Cid's grasp. "Maybe later, and you're welcome." He murmured. He didn't want Cid to see his back, but he needed to put that salve on it. He needed to heal. He sighed and walked over to sit gingerly on the couch, unable to even slouch effectively for fear of opening up his wounds. "I won't kill him, Cid," he said wearily, suddenly very tired. He had been running on adrenaline for the last week, and now that he was here that adrenaline just bled away, leaving an exhausted shell behind. He wanted to lie down, but that would hurt, at least until he put the anesthetic salve on. "So what did you do to warrant what looks to be a very thorough beating?"

Trying consciously not to be hurt by the fact that Vincent had pulled away from him, Cid laughed humorlessly and said, "All I gotta do is be my own useless self t'deserve this." He couldn't decide if he wanted to plop onto the couch or pace around the room; the latter came closest to winning, and he went to the kitchen and procured a glass of wine for each of them, unsure whether he even wanted to touch his. After he had given Vincent the other glass, Cid began pacing behind the couch. "Things're gettin' hairy, Vincent. Somebody's gotta be leakin' somewhere."

Taking the glass of wine with a grateful."Thank you." He took a sip and eased back into the couch with a sigh. "I agree. Rufus knows I meet with you, and I only hope to the gods that he does not know for what. So someone in my circle is talking, I just do not know who it is. What happened to make you come to this conclusion?" He looked up at the cop when Cid made a pass in front of the couch.

"Scarlet. Sent me lookin' fer Spike this week….with a babysitter, so I couldn't just slack off, seein' as I know good an' well where 'e is. We had t'run around askin' people shit an' whatnot, an' turned up nothin' in th'end, o' course, 'cause knowin' anything woulda just proved I'd been there, an' anyway I couldn't'a proved 'e was dead, 'cause yer boys're thorough. An' if I could have, that woulda ended up th'same way, like confessin' t'ever'thing." Cid finally, finally felt it all catch up to him, and he was a mess. "I want outta here so bad. Wouldja come with me, Vincent, if I ran? Nah, don't answer that, I don't wanna hear."

His breathing was beginning to come in quicker, shorter breaths, and he had to force himself to try to calm down. "I ain't cut out fer this, none of it." He set down his glass but did not stop pacing, and one hand came up to grasp the tags, the thumb running over the smooth surface of the one that lay on top. Gradually his breathing slowed and returned to normal, and he turned to Vincent again. "How is it that I can hate all this shit that's happenin' an' still not regret a moment I ever spent w'you? Tell me how that works," he pleaded, finally taking a seat on the floor at Vincent's feet. Getting up would be a pain, but that was where he wanted to be. "Tell me, so I c'n figure it all out."

"I have no answers for you, Cid." Vincent said sadly. Setting his wine glass down on the end table, and gritting his teeth against the pain it caused, he leaned forward and gently took Cid's bruised and cut face into his hands, looking sadly down into eyes that matched what was in heart. "I wish I did, but I don't." He gently stroked over a bruised temple. "It's a mad world…we live in…insane and violent, and we get lost in it. But somehow…you did not. I've been trying to figure how you escaped from the very first moment I met you. That's why you feel fear now, panic. And that's a _good_ thing," he said firmly. "Because it means you want to live. I think somewhere…" he brushed a finger with exquisite care over Cid's split bottom lip. "Somewhere along the way I gave up, I lost that desire that still burns within you. I do not understand, truly, how you can desire my company since I embody all that it is that you hate." He carefully released Cid's face, and rested upon his elbows on his knees. He sighed again. "My better sense tells me that whatever it is that I feel for you is bad, and that I must let you go. But try as I might, I always end up coming back. I ask _you_, why is that?"

Cid huffed, grinning a little. "I got th'answer t'that. S'Cause people do stupid shit, Vincent, an' it gets 'em in trouble all th'time. Fer instance, I don't give a fuck anymore 'bout what I used t'want, used t'love, used t'hate. There's only you now fer me, an' ever'thing else takes a far second." He slouched a little more and rested his head against Vincent's knee, putting an arm loosely over Vincent's calves. When he met with no winces or leg jerks or other indications of pain, he wrapped the other around the backs of his calves and held on almost tightly. He buried his face against the material of Vincent's pants for a moment, content to hold him this way and breathe in the scent that belonged only to Vincent. "What th'hell kind o' man am I?" he mumbled against the material. "I say I love ya all th'time but I can't even protect ya." Tilting his head up to look at Vincent, he ran through what was in his medicine drawer, wondering if there was anything he could offer Vincent to lessen the pain. "At least let me put somethin' on 'em t'keep infections an' whatnot away. I dunno if it'll do anything fer pain like that, but I keep the cheap stuff 'round here." He wanted to hold Vincent so badly, wanted to take it all away and bring them back to last Friday. He would simply have kept Elena from leaving and sent someone else into the warehouse. Although, as Cid realized belatedly, it had been that incident that had finally brought them to the questionable state of togetherness they now shared. "Damn," he breathed, having no statement to back it up and no real meaning behind it. He dropped his head again and stared at his own feet.

"An' I don't wanna die, yer right, but I'd die with you t'night if it meant we c'd be t'gether f'rever." He smiled ruefully. "Only I don't believe in all that, so instead I gotta work hard here t'make sure I get t'spend all th'time I can with ya. I missed out on thirty good years already, an' lemme tell ya, thirty ain't never sounded like so big a number 'til I tacked on the 'without Vincent' t'th'end of it." Cid knew he was being sappy, and, indeed, almost petulant, but he had exhausted his supply of mature words for the week in trying to keep Tifa off their case. "I also don't care anymore how much it hurts either of us when I say it. I love you."

"You _are_ obsessed," Vincent said softly, grinning widely and running his fingers through wild blond hair. "You need not fear, Cid. They will not become infected. I do however have some salve that Tseng pressed upon me with the strict instruction to apply it. Apparently it is supposed to help with scarring and has an anaesthetizing effect." He winced and shifted as his back began to burn. "And at this moment I shall be glad for it, only I warn you that when I apply it I shall smell like your grandmother's boudoir. It smells quite foul." Not for the first time, Cid's readily issued declaration unsettled him. It made him nervous because he himself did not know exactly how he felt towards the man at his feet. He cared for Cid, yes; he could no longer deny it, but love? He just didn't know. He would say that only time would tell, but truthfully he didn't know if that was even an option in their world. Especially given Sephiroth's vicious claim on him first. "Will you permit me to use your restroom, Cid?"

After a quiet moment of consideration, Cid decided to ask the obvious question rather than assuming Vincent didn't trust him. "Won't you let me, Vincent? Or are m'hands too rough?"

Vincent smiled wanly. "No, they are not too rough. I appreciate it, and accept as there are places that I cannot reach." Cid scooted back, and stood up, as did Vincent who then proceeded to walk over to his tossed-aside coat. He withdrew the small vial of salve and headed into the bathroom, trusting Cid to follow. His first order of business was to get his shirt off, and proceeded to undo the buttons. That done, he eased the silk off over his shoulders, wincing as the smooth fabric caught on several scabs, one of which tore open. With a sigh of relief he let his shirt slide all the way off and the hung it over the shower curtain rod. He leaned forward onto his hands on the sink for a moment as the cool air brushed over his heated flesh. Next he unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down low onto his hips, thus freeing the majority of the remainder of the lash marks from their abrasive confinement. Lastly he lowered the seat on the toilet and sat backwards on it, leaning forward onto his elbows on the tank, and resting his forehead against the wall. "Thank you, Cid." Vincent murmured, and waited for the blissfully numbing salve to be applied.

Taking the salve from Vincent's hand, Cid blanched and hesitated a moment, emitting a soft sound at the sight before him. "Oh, Vincent." What was Vincent doing here? He should have stayed home and rested, shouldn't have taken the trouble to get here. He wiped away the blood first from the one that had come open, wincing and apologizing as Vincent's reaction informed him that he had pressed a little too hard. "Oh, sugar, I'm so sorry. This shouldn't've happened at all." Shaking his head, he began applying the salve, starting from the bottom and making sure to catch every cut. Carefully, using only the pressure needed to get the substance off his skin and onto Vincent's, Cid coated the marks with what was indeed a very foul-smelling medicine.

He hoped it did numb the pain as Vincent seemed to think it would. The lashes must have been very deep when Vincent had received them; they were deep now, and Cid knew Vincent healed more quickly than most people. He was careful to avoid touching any more than he needed to, but when he came to the last few near Vincent's shoulders, he went back and applied a thin layer to the undoubtedly tender flesh around each cut, putting great effort into not wondering what was used to harm this body, and into fighting back rage at the one who had dealt the pain. Making one more thorough sweep with his eyes for overlooked places, Cid stepped back and said, "A' right. Turn around for me."

He had noticed a few more marks on Vincent's sides that he could not entirely reach from behind, so when Vincent complied and turned to face him, he finished with those and took care of the couple low on Vincent's chest that appeared to need treatment just as badly as those on his back. Amazingly, a fair amount of the salve still remained. "This stuff really goes aroun'," he murmured to himself, and placed his left hand on the right side of Vincent's face, lifting it and holding his head still as the other hand lifted to treat the slash down the left side.

With infinite tenderness, Cid rubbed the solution over the cracked and swollen flesh, knowing that his heart would break if he allowed this to happen again. When it was done and he was satisfied with his work, Cid leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Vincent's lips, hand still on his face with fingers threaded through his hair. "I'm so sorry. How much did this have t'do with me?" he asked, needing to know so he could suitably berate himself. His blue eyes were wet with tears that he knew would go unshed; there was no reason to cry now. Vincent was safe, he was here with Cid, and that was all that he could allow to matter, because it might be all they had.


	27. Chapter 27

Breakdown ahead, guys. I didn't cut anything from this chapter, so you get the whole experience? Also, you may notice a vaguely familiar line in this chapter, hm? *winks* Free shortfic to the first one to pick it out!

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When Cid had started applying the salve it had stung like nothing else, but gradually the anesthetic had kicked in, and now Vincent was seated rather comfortably, eyelids lowered in relieved bliss. Dimly, he wondered if Tseng's grandmother had used some sort of heavy narcotic, but presently he could care less. He hummed his approval, and smiled his thanks up at Cid when the man pulled back from the kiss. "Not anymore than it involved me," he lied smoothly. He reached out and took Cid's hand and squeezed it briefly before letting it drop. "Don't worry. You're safe. Very soon Rufus will have much more to worry about than what some random cop might have theoretically heard." He cocked his head, looking up into Cid's weary, and nervous, face. "You look exhausted, Cid. Not to mention wound tighter than a bedspring. Come," Vincent grunted as he tried to get up, failed with a thump back down onto the toilet seat, then tried again with more success. He took Cid's hand and tugged gently until the cop followed him back into the living room. "Lie down, please, and get comfortable. I wish to share with you a little technique that I learned from my mother." As soon as Cid was comfortable, Vincent sat down at the other end and took one of Cid's bare feet into his lap. When Cid tensed, Vincent murmured, "Easy." Finally, when Cid relaxed again, Vincent began rubbing the cop's foot, slowly kneading the muscles and tendons of heel, sole, instep, toes and then moving up the man's calf. When he looked up, he quirked an eyebrow at Cid's queer expression. "If this truly bothers you I will stop, Cid."

"Ain't about me bein' safe," Cid had murmured in response to Vincent's vague reply. "I ain't at all worried about that." He had been loath to follow Vincent for some reason; had in fact been reluctant to accept any touch from him at all tonight, and could not understand why he was so nervous. He hadn't wanted to lie down, as he had no idea what Vincent had in mind, and that too made him uncomfortable, even though he was mostly certain that Vincent wouldn't hurt him. In the end, he hadn't been able to deny Vincent, but when the man's hands started working on his foot, instinct had been to jerk away violently. He could not remember the last time anyone had touched his feet, if anyone ever had. He didn't like it, but it wasn't harming him, and he saw no reason not to tolerate the attention if it pleased Vincent…for whatever reason that might be. After finally talking himself into relaxing, Cid found that the touch was almost pleasant. At any rate, it was certainly not unpleasant. He shook his head belatedly in reply to Vincent's inquiring statement; he was a bit bothered, but he didn't want Vincent to stop because he was afraid that would end their contact for the night, and that would be even worse. He kept his head turned away from the couch, looking out over the expanse of the room, and kept quiet. "I reckon it'd prob'ly feel good," he said meekly, "if'n I didn't already feel so bad. M'sorry." He turned his eyes to Vincent's, hoping he had not offended him.

"For what?" Vincent said gently, releasing Cid's foot, but leaving it resting in his lap. "Does my touch offend you that much? Am I to accept yours, but not be allowed to return in kind?" He was puzzled. Highwind was always quick to touch him; a caress here, a squeeze there. But when he attempted something beyond fingertips in a forward manner, Cid pulled away. "I don't understand." Vincent whispered, hurt. "I only wish to help you to relax, I meant no offense."

"No, Vincent, don't think that," Cid said, caught between scrabbling to sit up and simply lying where he was, because now that the unfamiliar touch had ceased, he was actually quite comfortable. He chose to remain. "Don't think it's your fault, or that y'offended me. S'just…nobody touches me like that. Nobody wants to. Not used to it past hugs from Shera, y'know? I'm usually th'one who gives the attention, 'cause it's 'bout the one thing I'm good at –an' m'only half-decent in even that, really- an' th'last time anybody bothered returnin' th'favor…" He grimaced wryly. "Well, I got played like th'fool I am, didn't I? So it ain't you. I trust ya, I really do, an' I love that y'wanna help me calm down. But I just don't think I can t'night. Way too wound up."

He shook his head, eyes closing as the comfort he had procured slipped away. "I'll work on it, 'kay? I promise." He felt oddly melancholy suddenly, and he knew that he would only grow more so if he allowed it to fester. "Don't let me make ya stop tryin'," he said, smiling softly. "Stayin' th'night? M'afraid I'm gonna be fallin' asleep on ya real soon." He had slept away so many days, yet he was still tired- perhaps a side-effect from the number of pills he'd downed. "Y'want somethin' t'eat or anything first?" After another moment's quiet consideration, Cid removed his foot from Vincent's lap and silently offered the other foot as a replacement, a sheepish sort of grin forming on his face.

"No, I'm fine." Vincent said softly, as he slowly began rubbing Cid's feet again. "Try and get some sleep, Cid. I shall find something to do." He fell silent again as he bent to his task. His mind then wandered to the subject of who it was that might have hurt Highwind, and how they had done it. When he had finished rubbing Cid's feet, the cop was lying in a relaxed state, eyes glazed and somewhat unfocused, and Vincent didn't bother to disturb him. Cid needed to rest where and while he could, because Vincent had an unsettling feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better. He just had to try to keep Cid out from the middle of it as best he could.

Lifting the cop's legs, he slid out from under them, and walked over to the window. Easing back the curtains, he looked out and down onto the street below and the unmarked car that had been sitting out front since he had arrived. _Amateurs_, he thought acidly. He kept to the side of the window and out of sight, continuing to peer down at the cops that were positioned there, and thinking that this was the very situation he had dreaded when he had considered Highwind's offer.

The cop was on his way out, and now he had surveillance, probably 'round the clock since Scarlet suspected Cid's presence at the warehouse. But _how_ did she know? That one was relatively easy. He figured Rufus probably told her. It hadn't exactly been a secret that he was meeting with Highwind, although he had taken great pains to keep the reason _why_ invisible, so the fact that Rufus was questioning him _specifically_ about where he had been the weekend past pointed to the fact that Rufus knew _something_. So how did Rufus know? Vincent clenched his jaw as the only two answers possible glared at him with malicious intent. The first was that Azul had told him, which was unlikely. The Cerulean was not known for being a 'team player', and the other possibility was that one of his own had talked. But who? And what _exactly_ had been said? As a result, he had taken every precaution to reveal as little information about his plans for Rufus in the event that one of his was indeed owned by ShinRa.

Turning away from the window, he carefully leaned back against the wall and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He was giving himself a headache with all of the 'what-ifs', possibilities and paranoia. For a moment he was gripped with the fear of not knowing what to do, but his never idle mind quickly started plodding forward once again and he knew that the only thing _to_ do was what he had planned to do before he had walked through Highwind's door this evening: leave ShinRa, and take the man down as he went. The longer he waited now, the harder it would be to go through with it, given the fact that Rufus was spooked. If the mako arrangement with Cid fell through since Highwind no longer had authority, then he would manage. Besides, if all went according to plan, by the end of this, _he_ would own Hojo, and the problem would be solved once and for all.

"Vi'cent? Cid slurred, missing the presence of the other man once he processed that he was not there. "Where'd y'go?" he asked, sitting up slowly and looking around, finally spotting Vincent at the window. "Oh." Standing and joining him there, Cid sighed and said, "Yeah, there's cops, but they're Lazard's." He grinned sleepily and tugged at Vincent's hand. "He told 'er, 'All th'ones under you 're idiots like that Highwind. Y'want 'em fallin' asleep on th'job? I'll hand-pick 'em for ya,' an' he did, an' he told 'em t'leave us alone. Don' worry 'bout it. Like you couldn't sneak right past 'em anyway," he said proudly, flashing a winning smile at Vincent, split lip and all. "I always knew just where y'were," he said, sounding as if he were in a daydream. "Always. Watched you fer a damned long time." He tugged again, clearly toward the bedroom. "C'mon. Stay by me while y're here. We'll talk 'r somethin' t'pass th'time. I don't think I wanna go t'sleep just yet, even if I am tired."

"It's a Hunter's moon tonight," Vincent said, his voice distracted and mournful. "You can just see it through the plate." He shuddered, gripping Cid's hand, hard, then looked back out the window at the cops down below. "All the pieces are in place. All is needed is for the Queen to move, and leave the King unguarded." He looked at Cid, and whispered, "Checkmate. A storm is coming…" At that moment, he felt so lost and cold.

Then, like a child, he let Cid lead him to the bedroom, and sat down on the large bed, where he sat facing Cid, and crossed his legs. He sighed and smiled wistfully. "Tseng has always been an avid chess player…loved the game. Growing up, he would try and get me to learn how, but I always found it horrendously boring. He would always use chess metaphors, and I thought he sounded so wise." He looked down at his hands that rested in his lap. "It wasn't until the last three years that I actually developed a fondness for the game, though I shall never hold it such high regard as does Tseng." He looked back up at Cid, cocking his head. "What does Deusericus know about what's going on?"

"Hell, I don't know. Nothin' 'e's tellin' me, that's fer sure. I wanted t'ask ya b'fore I talked t'him about what we saw Saturday, but I just plumb forgot t'call ya. Didn't have time, actually," he revised. "But I reckon 'e knows somethin' or else he wouldn't'a been so involved an' all. He knows Shinra's bad news, that much I know." Cid shifted and settled against the pillows, wincing as he inadvertently put pressure on his bruised ribs. "I'd offer t'let ya talk to 'im now, but I don't know who might be buggin' th'line. There's always somebody higher up," he sighed. His turn, then. What kind of question to ask, though? Finally he settled on one, one that laid bare his insecurity and drew the conversation safely away from their current morbid topic. "Vincent, Saturday, when we made- when I was- when we had- well. On th'table…does it disgust ya that I wanted that? Only ask 'cause sometimes it seems like all I c'n do is hurt ya, an' I don't want…I don't want ya t'remember that as a time I hurt ya."

Vincent swallowed nervously, twitched and avoided eye-contact, but he answered as truthfully as he could. "It's supposed to hurt. But I don't- I don't _blame_ you…if that is what you mean." He paused, his face becoming uncomfortably hot, and plucked idly at the comforter. "It meant something to you…to have my body, and I _wanted_ to give you that. I will not lie; parts of it…felt good. You were as gentle as you could be, and considerate of my needs, and I am grateful for that." He stopped worrying the comforter, smoothing over it with his hand instead. Finally he looked back up to meet Cid's eyes through bangs that had fallen into his face. "I will not look back upon that night with regret, Cid," he said softly.

"S'good." Vincent's answer still left him with some guilt, but he figured it was the best he could hope for given their unique circumstances. "But it shouldn't hurt. I shouldn't'a let it. An' it means somethin' t'me, Vincent, 'cause I want all of ya, an' I wanna give ya all o' me. It's more'n your body, more'n my body. Not just a way fer me t'get off, an' not just a way fer me t'use ya." Surely Vincent knew this, but Cid said it again anyway. "M'first time…I regretted it. I was a kid; thought I was in love. Let m'self get dragged inta lots o' things, lots o' things I shouldn't'a done. Was real good at not gettin' caught back then." He sighed; this was no time to reminisce, and honestly, he didn't remember much of it anyway. "What I can't figure is how I got out. But this ain't th'time fer all that." He smiled sadly and tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling and thinking anyway of the eager boy with stronger dreams than Cid could manage now. "I wanted t'be a pilot," he said softly."I know I told ya already, but I mean I really, really wanted it, like nothin' else. Gave it all away so fast. So fast." He shook his head and let his eyes close. "Everything happens too damn fast." Cid sighed heavily and looked back at Vincent, holding out both arms. "I won't squeeze ya, won't touch ya if it hurts, just wantcha closer, 'fore you go away too." He let out another sigh. "M'takin' yer turn, sorry. You get two next time," Cid said wearily. "What happens when y'don't need mako from me anymore?" he asked carefully. It wasn't a question he necessarily wanted answered, but he did want to be prepared when that time came. Vincent would likely find a better offer somewhere, a less risky situation, and Cid would be of no more use to him.

Vincent didn't believe him. He wanted to, but he knew better. He sighed softly, and eased around until he could lean wincingly back against the pillows, and Cid. After some uncomfortable squirming, he finally found a position that was agreeable. "I am sorry for your regrets," he said softly, fiddling now with the fingers of one of Cid's hands. "It is so alarming how fast your dreams leave you. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time, crossing a street when you should have stayed where you were…talking to the wrong person at the right time, and your life changes permanently." He rested his head against Cid's shoulder companionably. "I do not know what will happen when I no longer need the mako. And that is the truth." There was a moment of bound silence, and then Vincent said sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Cid, but I'm getting goo all over your pillows…and you."

Cid only shrugged and grunted in reply, head aching suddenly. He faced away from Vincent but left his hand where it was, gripping Vincent's fingers lightly when they stilled and made to move away. "I'm tired," he said quietly. He turned again and rested his chin on the top of Vincent's head. "Thank ya fer stayin'," he said grudgingly, still a bit irked that Vincent was working so hard to keep the distance between them. He couldn't be truly upset, though; Vincent had more than one valid reason to be careful. It was just very, very frustrating for Cid when he was only ever open and honest with the other man. "Anything else y'wanna know?" he ventured, a little more warmly. He was tired, yes, but not sleepy yet, and more than willing to keep talking until he couldn't think anymore.

"No," Vincent breathed. "Who you were does not matter so much as who you are now." He huffed once. "You don't _sound_ like you are glad I'm here." He felt a little ill, actually; conflicted and strangely detached. "I don't know what to do, what to think, what to feel. I just want to go back to being dead inside. I'm tired of trying to make people happy, give them what they want, do what they want. I just want to be left alone. It is so much less complicated that way." He sat up to move to the edge of the bed. "I feel so alone…I-"He stood up, and began wandering the room, agitatedly. Quite suddenly, and most unexpectedly, parts of his past came up to stab his frontal lobe viciously. The faces of ghosts, his mother, his wife, and his son floated in front of his eyes, and he moaned, sinking to his knees to lower his forehead to the carpet. "Oh, baby…" he said raggedly. "I tried…I tried so _hard_ to be strong…" He heard Sephiroth's evil whispering in the back of his mind, taunting, teasing. "Stop it-stop it! Leave me alone…I know what I'm doing…what I have to do, I'm doing it! I'm-I'm working…on it, I'm…losing my mind." He sat back up then only to fall back onto his backside, slumping and completely unmindful of his cuts. "I have to get a grip, I have to think rationally…it will all be okay, I'll make it okay. I will…I will…" He gripped his head as a throbbing pain took up residence in his temples. "I can't think!" he moaned as he drew his knees up to his chest, breaking open several scabs as he wrapped his arms around them. His heart was beginning to race, and he couldn't seem to catch his breath no matter how hard he tried.

Cid had started to retort, but had very quickly grown silent when Vincent had begun speaking quickly and moving about. He watched, horror-struck, as Vincent went through what appeared to be an episode of panic and information overload. He didn't know who or what Vincent was talking about, but he did catch the words, and they hurt him. He was on his feet before Vincent had fallen, and he only grew more alarmed when he witnessed that. He inched closer, not knowing if he should get closer, speak, stay silent, leave the room...but he couldn't leave Vincent alone with his thoughts like this, just couldn't. When it finally appeared to be over, Cid leaned in said in a low, soft voice, "Breathe, Vincent. Shhh, it's all right, it's gonna be all right. Just breathe."

Vincent didn't look at him, but Cid did notice a gasp and a great heaving, which he could only assume meant Vincent had taken a large, if shallow, breath. "Good, that's good. Keep breathin'." He placed his hand on the back of Vincent's neck. "Now listen at me. You are strong. You are. An' don't let anybody tell ya any different. Don't worry 'bout thinkin', Vincent, just breathe," he said in response to a hint of the frenzy rising again. Cid moved his head closer, resting it against Vincent's head. "Lose yer mind if it helps. Let it go. Get it all out an' get rid of it." He used the other hand first to steady himself as he found a more stable position and then worked it gently under Vincent's chin to encourage him to raise his head.

The red eyes wouldn't meet his; they were shifting all over, and Vincent looked frighteningly aware of his surroundings. "I'll keep it safe for ya 'til it's cleaned out, an' then I'll give it back." _At least_, Cid reflected, _he ain't spazzin' out. An' 'e's breathin' pretty normal an' not babblin' anymore._ "So lose yer mind. Go right ahead," he said quietly, taking the hand from the back of Vincent's neck and moving it to stroke his cheek with his thumb instead, fingers in the dark hair, as he leaned in again to rest their foreheads together. 'C'n hold onta me, an' I'll make it be all right."

Vincent struggled to breathe, forcing the air in and out of his lungs in time to Cid's breath. Both of his hands came up to rest on either side of the man's face, more on Cid's strong jaw than his cheeks, and he swallowed hard as he rose to his knees. He pressed his forehead to Cid's firmly, as thoughts, feelings, scenes from just mere days past shot through his head at lightning speed to leave him reeling. He shut his eyes, and began to talk, but there was nothing intelligible to his words, most of which were in Wutainese anyway, and at some point he was sure he had begun to laugh. But finally he wore himself out, and just knelt there, on the floor, facing Cid. To calm his jittery nerves he focused upon Cid's smell; aftershave, faint sweat and cigarette smoke, barely noticeable beneath the overpowering smell of the salve. He focused upon how Cid's hand felt upon his face; rough textured, yet infinitely gentle, strong fingers with a confident caress. He focused upon the heat he felt coming off of the cop; the body heat, the _presence_ that mingled with his own to slowly overshadow the shivering remnants of who he was. But most of all he listened to Cid's easy breathing- low and deep, and in perfect rhythm to the heartbeat just under the man's flesh, which, if he concentrated hard enough, he could hear.

Soon, Vincent's whole world narrowed down to those senses: touch, scent, hearing…he had seen those blue eyes, compassionate and fearful for his wellbeing, and now there was only one sense left. Without allowing himself to think about it, Vincent closed the minute distance between them, pressing his lips against Cid's. He angled his head to get a deeper, more thorough kiss, and Highwind's mouth opened willingly, almost eagerly under his own. And thus sealed his sensory possession. He tasted tea, and something slightly salty. He probed deeper with his tongue, and tasted the flavor that was unique to Cid. It was musky, masculine, and grounded his whirling thoughts, coalescing them down to, "Right here, right now…" he breathed, and sealed their mouths together once again.

"That's right," Cid said in return, helping this time to close the distance between them. _That's all we have, right here, right now_. He had no idea what Vincent had said to him when the babbling had abruptly started again, but he had been glad to listen to it; it sounded pleasant rather than panicked or sardonic, and he had been grateful to hear Vincent's laugh. Cid felt that this was somehow like being a kid again, experimenting with love for the first time, the way he eagerly, shamelessly awaited Vincent's kisses, on the verge of begging for more of them. After a time, he shifted again and rose to match Vincent. Up tall on his knees, he could smell Vincent's blood now. Could almost taste it, really, his senses were heightened by their contact.

And Vincent was so close... But he couldn't care about the blood now. He could do nothing but breathe and cling and cling and want. Vincent's hands tightened on his jaw, and Cid whimpered helplessly into the mouth that was still hungry on his. He thought again -for thought was beginning to return to him as he prepared to pull away- about the absurdity of the situation: here they sat, a failed cop and the soon-to-be leader of the most prominent crime organization on the continent, kissing desperately on the floor of Cid's apartment as if nothing else concerned them. And, truth be told, nothing else did. Still, Cid pulled away gently, sighing, and asked, "Right here, right now...what is y'want, Vincent?"

He knew what _he_ wanted. He wanted to stay right here, to keep kissing until his tongue was numb and his lips were raw, maybe even bleeding, so he could bleed with Vincent. He dragged his eyes away from swollen lips to seek out red eyes that were no less frenzied than they had been before, but this was a different kind of madness.


	28. Chapter 28

Sorry, I updated a bit behind Cal. Had a busy weekend, for once.

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His entire existence had taken the form of Cid Highwind at that moment. The rest of the world ceased to exist. Vincent's lips tingled and throbbed from the voracious kissing, and his breathing had indeed deepened. Instead of desperate gasps, they had turned into ragged pants that came from deep within his chest. He could feel tiny trickles of blood tickling down his back, which helped to clear the fog of lust that had risen up, threatening to turn him into a hormone-driven savage. Sephiroth's warning blazed in the back of his mind, and he struggled against it even as he leant into yet another kiss – briefer than the last, but no less passionate.

Sephiroth had said that Cid's knowledge of him was unimportant, so perhaps he should tell Cid of the nightmare, the demon that haunted his dreams. If Cid knew, then he could prepare himself for the other's attack. But no, Highwind wouldn't believe him; hells, half the time he didn't even believe himself! And Vincent clung to the slim hope that by not telling the cop his darkest secret, he was somehow keeping the man safe.

So what of Tseng's admonition? What _really_ bothered him about getting close to Highwind? He had thought long and hard about that, and had finally decided that it was a little bit of everything. Yes, it bothered him a little that Cid was a man; a proud man whose pride dictated that he control his mate. And the fact that Vincent felt that he was put into the role of the submissive, helpless female needing comfort but never being allowed to comfort in return, only succeeded in making him resist. The only other interactions he had had with men, had resulted in forcing his submission and utter humiliation. A cop? This fact posed a problem only in the sense that when it came to business, it placed a great risk upon everything he did. And then there was Lucrecia, sweet Lucrecia. Yes, he felt like he was dishonoring her, but more was the fact that with Cid he could never have another child. It was selfish, but so often one never got a chance to choose what they felt. He was used to a woman's touch, a woman's love; and here was this man, this rough, crude man claiming that he loved him.

But none of that occurred to Vincent now. Now there was only this other warm body, and comforting presence. He kissed Cid again, and then returned to resting his forehead against the cop's once again. He touched his fingers to Cid's kiss-swollen lips and whispered, "I can't ever go back, can I."

Cid didn't know what Vincent was referring to, but the question garnered the same answer in virtually any context. Cid only shook his head, uncertain now of what would happen. He breathed shakily, unwarranted fear snatching at him from somewhere, but not managing to catch him. He let Vincent's fingers trace his lips, but they moved away when he spoke. "Can't go back…but what's ahead might be even better. We never know. Never ever know." Saddened by Vincent's obvious hesitance though he did not know what inspired it or to what it applied. "Take what you want. From me, from anybody, from life itself. That's my wish for ya, Vincent."

_I'll give you anything in my power. An' hell, that ain't much, but…I'd give you everything. Y'd never believe me, but I would_. He kissed Vincent again, moving his hands to rest on Vincent's hips. He slowly slid a few inches of his arms around Vincent low on his back, below the majority of the damage. The position put him in an odd slouching stance, his head resting on Vincent's shoulder near his neck. _You deserve t'have whatever you need._ "Always be yours," he offered quietly, pressing tighter and nuzzling into Vincent's neck.

His response was to wrap his arms around Cid, careful not to hold too tightly. Gently Vincent pulled Cid upward and against his own broken body, as one of his hands came up to rest on the nape of Cid's neck. He nuzzled Cid's ear and whispered raggedly, "That is what frightens me, Cid. You say that so easily, even after what you have seen me do, what I am capable of." _What I keep putting you through. _He pressed closer, knowing the pressure on those wicked bruises had to be painful, but needing the closeness. "How did you come to mean so much to me? A little over a month ago I would not have hesitated to take your life, and now the thought of your death puts the fear of the same in me." He kissed the side of Cid's head, rubbing Highwind's neck soothingly. "And every time I come here, I am made so sad, and yet when I leave, I am somehow stronger. I don't understand…perhaps I am not meant to."

Cid could barely manage not to squeeze Vincent. He did not know how to answer any of Vincent's speculations, so he only went on resting where Vincent had placed him. "I don't wanna make ya sad," he said, pressing his face more tightly against Vincent's neck. He felt the pain only distantly. He could feel the blood on his arms, and he shivered at the unpleasant feel of it in contrast with the wonderful feeling of Vincent tenderly kissing and caressing him. He wanted to fall apart here, to rest in Vincent's arms forever, or at least as long as they would hold him. He kissed the skin under his mouth and spread his hands where they rested on Vincent's back, hardly aware that he was coming into contact with more blood and covering more sore areas with abrasive skin.

He just needed more, more touch, more purchase, more Vincent. _I love you_, he thought, but dared not say it aloud again. "But sometimes it's worth it t'be sad, if it makes ya stronger." _I love you so much it breaks m'heart…but that makes me stronger, so it's okay. It's okay._

"But why must strength be purchased at such a high cost?" Vincent murmured. His back was beginning to burn again as the slowly oozing blood washed away the salve in places. He pulled back to sit on his heels, and looked at Cid, blushing lightly. "I'm bleeding again. May I ask a favor of you in requesting your assistance in cleaning it up, and reapplying the salve? You don't have to, I can just as easily use the shower it is just…" He broke off, looking down briefly as his blush deepened. "It's just that I enjoy it when you touch me."

"Do ya now?" Cid mused in a murmur, then grinned widely. "'Course I will. We left it in th'bathroom, huh? Go on 'n get comf'table; I'll be right back." On impulse, he waited until Vincent was standing to attempt it himself. He was surprised by the hand that reached out to him; he took it gladly, smiling warmly at Vincent as he stood steadily with the other man's aid. He inspected the carpet; no blood had dripped onto it. When Cid returned from washing his hands and collecting the salve and a wet cloth, Vincent was lying on his belly on the bed, head turned to face the window though its shades were down. He settled onto the bed beside Vincent and, after allowing Vincent to clean his slightly bloodied hand, wiped away the rest of the blood.

There was not as much as he had initially feared, and for that he was glad. He was also glad that none appeared to have gotten into Vincent's hair. He waited for the damp skin to dry, thumb rubbing circles at Vincent's hip. Feeling that enough time had passed, Cid uncapped the vial and began re-applying the salve, giving the same amount of care he had earlier, if not more. "Do look like they're healin' clean, at least," Cid said just to break the silence. When all the cuts on Vincent's back had again been treated, Cid moved the vial to the bedside stand and returned the washcloth to the bathroom. He went back to the bed and settled on his back beside Vincent, face turned away from the window so he could watch Vincent's face. He said no more, only smiled a small grin and shifted closer to peck Vincent's lips.

Returning the quick kiss willingly, Vincent then settled his head down to rest upon his forearm. For a few quiet moments he watched Cid's face thoughtfully before reaching up with is free hand and gently tracing the skin at the outside of one of the cop's blue eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a nice smile?" he murmured, stroking the soft skin there. "It makes the skin wrinkle here. I like that. You should do it more often." He then returned his hand to rest just beneath his chin and contented himself to watching Cid again. Finally, he said huskily, "But something has just occurred to me."

"Been a long time since I heard that," he mumbled, enjoying the soft touch and deciding to never regret aging badly again. Cid kept smiling for Vincent as they watched each other. He blinked lazily, happily, before replying, "An' what might that be?"

Vincent scooted closer, careful to keep his back as immobile as possible, and said as he slowly closed the distance between their mouths, "I haven't finished kissing you yet. May I be so bold as to finish what I started?" he asked, and gently sealed their lips together.

Every other time they had kissed had been frantic or wrought with heavy emotion. Now, Vincent took his time, feeling _everything_ about what he was doing, relaxed and peaceful. He could tell the difference between Cid's lips and the lips of the women he had kissed in his life. The lips under his own now were thinner and firmer. Another difference was that unlike with the female lovers he had had, even the feistier ones, who had eventually submitted to his attention, Cid met him as an equal. The man did not back down; Cid advanced when he retreated, and gave when he pushed. It was as though Cid knew _exactly_ where and how to kiss him, to touch him, to create the most sensation. There was no fumbling, no blind caresses in an _attempt_ to get it right. Everything was done with a purpose for a desired response…and it turned him on.

But now, as before, it was just the two of them, kissing and touching. Vincent's tongue slid against Cid's, again and again in wet, velvety strokes, and he brought the arm that he was not propped on, up to run his hand gently over Cid's chest. His fingers fluttered over one of the cop's nipples, and he was rewarded with a little hitch in the other man's breath, as Highwind arched at little into the touch. Intrigued, he kept his fingers over the stiffening nub. He knew what _he_ liked, and wondered if such action would gain him the same _re_action. He was not disappointed as Cid moaned softly into his mouth. Vincent then began to move his hand toward the other side of Cid's chest, and encountered the dog tags that he had purchased for Cid's birthday the week past.

Breaking off the kiss, he lifted his head to look down at the thin, shaped pieces of metal in his fingers now. He smiled as he fingered them. "I don't know why, but I thought of you when I saw them." He turned back to gaze into Cid's blue eyes, nearly black his pupils were dilated so far. He nuzzled Cid's cheek briefly before asking, "Have you thought of what to put on them yet?"

Cid nodded against Vincent, but did not tell him what the tags would read. "I'm glad y'got 'em for me. I like 'em." He did not mention the fact that he had put them on only that morning. He was breathless, turned on, and hungry still for more of Vincent's attention. Thinking was difficult; feeling was easy. Vincent had it all backwards, the silly man, Cid decided. "Maybe I'll tell ya if y'don't stop," he teased, grinning and kissing Vincent again.

Vincent pulled back and chuckled. "It would make telling me anything quite hard if I have my tongue in your mouth, Cid Highwind." But he _wanted_ his tongue there, and so he replaced it, only to pause again when the cop whimpered and began to squirm a little. "What- are you all right?" It was then that he noticed the rather obvious tent in the man's lightweight boxers. Vincent grinned slowly. "Perhaps I can help with this?" He then made to begin moving down the bed but stopped short with a hiss as newly forming scabs and existing old ones pulled painfully. Instead he resettled next to Cid, and began to kiss the man again, not increasing speed, but keeping them slow and lazy while his free arm slid down Cid's well muscled abdomen and to the elastic waistband of the cop's boxers. Hooking long fingers under the material he tugged the waistband down far enough to free Cid's erection. "Better?" he murmured against Cid's lips.

"Fuck," Cid said shortly, instinctively reaching up and gripping Vincent's arm tightly. "This is why it's bad fer you t'touch me. I get like this so fast, when it's you…" And he knew he would not be able to do anything but give in, though technically Vincent had never asked Cid to tell him what the tags would bear. "Love's not Time's fool," he whispered, lips brushing Vincent's as he spoke. He kissed him again, fighting the almost overwhelming urge to roll them over and press Vincent into the mattress only by reminding himself of the cuts decorating the other man's back. "Though rosy lips an' cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come." He remembered the words, of course; they were old favorite lines of his mother's. Reciting them now, however, proved difficult. "Love…alters not with his brief hours an' weeks, but bears it out," Cid finished, "even to the edge of doom." One more kiss and a nearly desperate roll of his hips, and he joked, "Whatcha think? Too sappy fer a tough, manly thing like me?" His eyes asked for approval, and reward, in the form of being brought to another kind of edge.

Vincent felt his heart begin to soften. "You would put my poem on them?" He breathed, kissing Cid with such fervor he made _himself_ breathless. He then wrapped his fingers around Cid's cock and began to pump it firmly; slowly at first then gradually increasing in speed as he listened to Cid's reaction, gauging easily where the man's body was in its journey toward orgasm. He had hooked one of his slack-clad legs over Cid's thigh and was instinctively rubbing himself against the cop's body as best he could in his awkward position, in an attempt to ease some of his own self-induced discomfort. "Oh, C-Cid," he gasped, as he began a slight twisting motion with the hand working Cid's cock. Desperately he locked their lips together again. When they pulled apart he could just manage to pant, "It's perfect."

* * *

"I liked that."

"Good." Cid smiled back, not surprised to find that Vincent's smile made him feel wonderful. "I'm glad t'hear it." He settled back down as well, resting close to the warmth of Vincent's body and rubbing his cheek against the smooth shoulder. Cid kissed the flesh there in apology for the irritation his stubble had likely caused before sliding up to rest with his head directly alongside Vincent's. He smiled again and carefully brought his arm up to push hair away from Vincent's ear to give himself access to it in order to whisper, "You make me feel so good, Vincent. Like I'm worth somethin'." Few people bothered to treat him that way or even to keep up a caring façade, but Vincent clearly cared enough to at least pretend…though Cid didn't think he was pretending. "Thank you fer bein' here with me."

"You are worth something." Vincent said softly, blinking slowly and burrowing his head further down into the pillow of his arms. "Everyone is worth something to someone. You were right. And you are worth something to me." His voice shook a fraction when he said, "You caught me when I fell. I shall never forget that, Cid."

"I'll always catch you," Cid whispered back, going in for one last soft kiss before Vincent's mouth disappeared behind his arms. "Can't promise I won't let ya fall again, but I'll always catch ya." He was then faced with one last dilemma: go under the covers to sleep and be separated from Vincent, or stay atop the comforter and savor the body heat that was so much warmer? He settled on the latter just on principle. Chances were that they would spend more time talking, but Cid was thoroughly exhausted now and would not be awake much longer. "We're all disgustin' an' shit," he commented brightly, clearly delighted at the revelation.

Startled, Vincent blinked, lifting his head up off of his arms. In light of such a bizarre change in topic, he did the only thing he could think of in response. He laughed. And at Cid's equally startled expression, he only laughed harder. He actually had to shut his eyes in an attempt to get himself under control as everything suddenly became funny to him. When he finally had gotten control of himself and brought his laughter down to broken chuckles, he wiped the tears from his eyes and said, "Why yes, we are, aren't we? I don't mind, not in the least, but I think perhaps your comforter has had it."

Having started laughing after a few seconds of watching Vincent, Cid snorted at the last statement. "Yeah, I reckon it has. Hell, it's ugly anyway," he said loudly, gesturing at the ceiling rather than the comforter, then blinking as he struggled to remember just what it was he was trying to say. "Fuck, we're tired," he observed, snickering a bit more. "We couldn't get up in th'mornin' if we wanted to after all o' this."

Vincent smiled softly, but did not reply. Instead he scooted over to lie so that he was touching Cid a little more, and very soon the two men were asleep.

* * *

- Meanwhile, at that very same moment, at other end of the plate -

"You're sure?"

"Positive. He has enough to put you away for seven lifetimes."

"Pity. He's been most useful." Rufus sighed.

"Everyone is replaceable, Mr. ShinRa."

"Yes they are, aren't they?" Rufus said from where he stood at his long bank of windows. "Can you get to that information?"

"No. He keeps it locked in a safe that only he has the combination for."

"Then we shall have to break the safe, won't we?" Rufus said as though speaking to an exceptionally slow child.

"Again, that is easier said than done," came the cold reply. "He has several safes, half of which only _he _knows the location to. He's _not_ stupid, Mr. ShinRa."

"So he has proven on multiple occasions." Rufus grit out between clenched teeth. "Which leaves us no choice, but to eliminate the source. Then we can take our time, slowly ripping apart his carefully constructed little world one contact at time until I find what I want." Rufus grew thoughtful, tapping his chin with the letter opener he held. "You know, quite frankly I'm surprised he hasn't suspected you before this, given how close you are to him."

"Which is precisely _why_ he'll never suspect me."

"Still," Rufus sighed almost sadly, as thought his informant had never even spoken. "I'd hate to lose him. He has proven most useful, and his body is so very resilient to my…unique, brand of affection, plus he _is_ rather pretty; not to mention _disgustingly_ easy to manipulate."

"You underestimate him, Mr. ShinRa. He's far more dangerous than you make him out to be," his informant warned. "The pieces are in place. He is about to checkmate your king in the next three days."

"Then we'll have to do something about that tonight then, won't we?" Rufus said simply.

"He's meeting with the cop tonight, but he'll be in bright and early Sunday. He's nothing if not dedicated and predictable."

"Staying over, are we?" Rufus sneered, eyes sparkling evilly as he recognized more leverage to use against Valentine, should he fail to remove him. He received a nod in reply. "How hypocritical, to pollute one's bed in such a manner."

There was silence between the two, as Rufus turned back to the widow he was standing at. Through the smog and gaps in the plate in noticed the red disk of the moon. "How ominous," Rufus said darkly, his voice oily and slick. "It's a blood moon tonight."

A cold smile, which he did not see, was all he got in reply.


	29. Chapter 29

We really didn't die! We've been busy, and we recently ran across a huge patch of the story that needed touching up. You guys wouldn't want our half-baked story when you can get the real thing, would you?

Also, **ShadowCasper **and **Anne Louise_, _**you both need to comment again so you can tell me what you want in your prize fics! I didn't forget, I just haven't had time lately. School's almost over for the semester, though, so I'll get on those as soon as you let me know what you're looking for.

Warnings for this chapter: Corny dialogue and such (courtesy of Cid) and much description of the male body, but nothing too "interesting." Enjoy!

* * *

Cid groaned as he woke, trying to determine where the pain signals were coming from. He registered first that Vincent was lying on him again, and he huffed in both amusement and affection before he realized that Vincent was exactly _why_ he was hurting. "I don't know how you do it, but we wake up like this ever' time," he said, pressing a kiss to Vincent's face just below his ear. Cid scooted minutely away, but Vincent frowned in his sleep and followed, apparently chasing the warmth and comfort of Cid's body. Sighing, Cid decided to just bear it, but then Vincent settled in more firmly, and Cid could have sworn he heard something crack as the pressure increased. Vincent's elbow pressed harder, and Cid gasped and let out a nearly shrill sound of pain. He groaned and pulled Vincent's arm away, kissing the side of the other man's neck to wake him up. "Vincent…y'gotta move, sugar, this ain't workin'. Wake up for me real quick an' then I'll letcha go back t'sleep."

Vincent very nearly leapt awake at the squall of pain from Cid. The kiss to his neck did little to reassure him. Blinking confusedly, he sat up, pushing at his now-wild mane of hair, he looked at Cid with concern. "What is it? What happened?"

"Y'got some sharp elbows, s'what happened," Cid huffed, shifting again as Vincent's weight did. "Y'know I'd love t'hold ya like this, but seems like I ain't ready for it yet," he said quietly, not wanting to make Vincent feel guilty. "Didn't think I could move ya m'self."

"I'm sorry." Vincent murmured, and sat back, crossing his legs as he did so. Experimentally he shrugged his shoulders and twisted his torso a little, finding that his wounds had very nearly healed all the way. Now all that would remain would be a few new scars. He touched his cheek, and found only a light welt in the place where the cut had been. He sighed silently in relief that there would be no scar. Some time in the night, someone – most likely Cid – had tugged the comforter over onto them haphazardly, and he pulled a corner over across his lap now to hide his nudity. He wanted sleep pants, and it took a great deal of effort to keep from fidgeting in his discomfort. "Do you require pain medication?" He asked in an effort to distract himself from both his discomfort and rising guilt that he had caused Cid pain.

Cid, known for the ability to sleep for days, just shook his head groggily. Now that the pressure on his chest was gone, there was nothing but warmth…with the occasional stab of pain, of course, but it wasn't bad enough anymore to concern him. What did concern him was the fact that Vincent was, for all intents and purposes, going away. "How 'bout you? S'more o' that smelly stuff?" Cid easily read Vincent's shyness, and he smiled and said, "There's th'same ones ya used last time in th'second drawer, right on top." He hoped Vincent would hurry back. "Still real early," he commented, noticing the light just beginning to creep in under the shades. "F'we hurry, we c'n get back t'sleep 'fore it's too bright." He grinned, consciously aware now that Vincent had pointed it out that the skin around his eyes wrinkled as he did so.

Vincent shook his head, at the same time grateful for the loan of the sleep pants. "No, my back is healed now, it is only mildly irritated, so no more 'smelly stuff'." His lips twitched up in a brief smile right before he slid out of bed and hurried over to the dresser to carefully rummage around until he found the pants that Cid had loaned him the weekend before. Keeping his back to Cid, he bent over, stepped into the soft cotton pants, and pulled them up and over his hips. When he turned back around, he noticed that Cid had re-positioned himself the _right_ way in the bed, and had even turned the covers down for him. Hesitating in minor indecision, he finally walked back over and slid into the bed again, careful to stay to his side of the mattress and not crowd Cid, who was very clearly still uncomfortable.

It was perhaps too early for Cid to react to the sight of Vincent nude and dressing, but that did not stop him from watching appreciatively. When the other man returned to the bed, Cid huffed at him again and reached for him. "I give you pants, an' I don't get a kiss? What th'hell kind of arrangement is this?" he asked, playing at bewilderment and smiling sleepily.

"I'm sorry, I-" Vincent said, feeling the familiar melancholy descend back upon him. He leaned forward and gave Cid a quick peck before returning to his side of the bed. "Go back to sleep, Cid." He rolled over and stared at the wall. He remembered what last night had felt like; the freedom he had felt when he had become someone else. "_I want that back_" he thought, not realizing he had breathed it out loud. With a sigh, he tugged the blankets up to his chin, closed his eyes and attempted to recall sleep to him.

_Dammit, Vincent_. Cid wasn't angry, but he was upset just a little by the fact that he did not know how to help. Knowing that putting his arms around Vincent now would be as good as smothering him, Cid instead got up slowly and walked around the bed to squat and rest his arms and chin on the bed at Vincent's eye level. "Y'say y'want it back, but y'don't fight t'keep it," he said softly, and his tone was not accusatory, but informative. "Is it what I said, Vincent? 'Cause y'can't pay no attention t'that. I'm an idiot, Vincent. I'm gonna say things, do things, that are insensitive and poorly said and done. An' half th'time I don't know _what_ I'm doin' wrong but I know it's somethin'."

He paused, taking a breath as he searched for something to say that would change the blank look on Vincent's face; the other man had opened his eyes not long after Cid had begun speaking. "I'll never hurt you on purpose, Vincent, but I can't promise –hell, I can't even _pretend_- that I ain't gonna hurt ya accidentally. But you c'n have back what we had last night anytime you want it. Y'just gotta try, honey. I'm always gonna be here waitin' for ya." He smiled and reached out to cup Vincent's face, thumb tracing the disappearing line there. He paused again and then said, on inspiration, "Do ya still want me t'let ya go? Still think it'll never work? 'Cause me, I think about us all th'time. Places I wanna take ya, things I wanna do with ya, secrets I c'd tell ya that'd be only b'tween us. Y'want me t'tell ya 'bout some of it?" he asked, attempting to divert the conversation from the melancholy.

"Yes." Vincent whispered, and felt his heart break a little. "I want you to let me go…but not because I want you to, because deep down, in my heart of hearts I do not want that, but because it is the right thing to do. We are too different, you see? We come from two separate worlds, you and I, and I am not worthy of you. You deserve a life, and I cannot give you that." He looked sorrowfully at Cid. "I can only give you death. You may not believe it, but it's only a matter of time." He reached out and gripped Cid's hand hard, suddenly desperate to explain himself. "I'm not playing you, you must believe me. The others…" his voice began to shake a little, but he kept it strong, if soft. "…When the others fucked me, that is all it was. I used the brutality and the pain to separate myself from them. I let them use me, so that I could get what I wanted, and then I killed most of them. The fact that they saw me as the whore that I am meant nothing to me, _they_ meant nothing to me. But you are different. I do not know how, but you are. When I look in the mirror, I see a whore, and I know that you can do better." Reluctantly, he released Cid's hand and fisted it in the blanket once again, but held Cid's gaze. "But when I _am_ with you, like last night, for a moment…just a moment, I forgot all of that; who I am, who I was…but it's just an illusion. Can you possibly understand? How can I hold onto something that is not even real? I would sooner touch the stars or hold a shadow within my grasp!" Unable to keep his hands away, he reached out one last time and cupped Cid's cheek. "So keep your precious secrets, Cid. Keep them safe, so that you might share them with someone who is worthy of them."

Cid was still and silent through Vincent's speech, but now that it was done, he spoke. "Well, yer outta luck there. I c'd no more let ya go than I could tear out m'own heart an' go on livin'. If this illusion's too much for ya, then I'll be the stars, an' I'll be yer shadow. I'll be all around ya everywhere ya look." He kissed the palm of the hand resting on his cheek. "Y're no whore, Vincent, an' there's nobody more worthy o' my secrets than the one who already holds m'heart. I don't have any secrets now that y'don't know already, but I do have this." Not waiting for an reply, Cid haphazardly slid himself back into bed beside Vincent. "Close yer eyes. Just imagine with me, Vincent, an' don't think. Listen, now."

He paused for a breath, then began, "We could go anywhere. Maybe a warm little cabin up in th'mountains, just me an' you. We'd get ourselves a little fire goin' an' curl up next to it, propped up on pillows an' maybe one o' them beanbag chairs. Fer a long time, maybe forever, we'd just lay there like that. Then one of us'd look up at th'other, an' he'd look back, an' we'd spend another whole eternity just lookin' at each other. Then I'd kiss ya, an y'd roll over onta me, just like this," Cid said, demonstrating by lying on his back and gently pulling Vincent atop him. Red eyes flew open at the repositioning to stare down at Cid. "Y'd look down at an' raise an eyebrow, actin' fer all the world like you own me. Ya do. I'd never give this much o' m'self t'anyone else. We'd make love then, I think, all warm by the fire. An' we'd never hafta be anything but Cid an' Vincent, an' wouldn't that just be beautiful?" He reached up to press his lips to Vincent's, quickly drawing back to spew yet another fantasy. "Or maybe it wouldn't be just us. Midgar's full o' orphans, ain't it? We c'd handle one or two, I'd say, huh? Boys. An' one of 'em c'd grow up an' fall in love w'Shera's girl, an' th'other c'd fall in love wi' Tseng an' Aerith's youngest, 'cause they'll be married an' happy an' spittin' out kids every couple years, an' we'd all be real fam'ly. How would that be, Vince, t'have fam'ly again like that? I didn't appreciate it when I should have, an' I regret that now."

"I know it all sounds like just a bunch o' pretty words t'you, but fer me, it's what keeps me goin' sometimes." His eyes met Vincent's, and he held them until Vincent looked away.

Blinking rapidly as his eyes burned, Vincent leaned down and kissed the skin over Cid's big heart. "It is a fine dream, Cid Highwind." He then laid his head back down on Cid's chest to keep the cop from seeing his face. When he spoke again, his voice shook as the tears lost their hold and fell upon his cheeks. "You hold on to that dream. Keep it safe and do not let it go." Vincent held on to Cid as he felt just how tenuous their time together really was. He would give up everything he had…to believe what Cid had just told him. If there was one lesson he had learned in this life, and learned well, it was that if something sounded too good to be true, then it usually was.

Cid put his arms around Vincent, no longer caring if his back hurt because of it. He let the tears fall but did not add his own. He was sorry for Vincent, that he had been dealt such a cruel hand that he could no longer even dream. "I'll dream fer both of us, Vincent," he said, and kissed the top of the dark-haired head. "All you gotta do is stay with me, an' all be happy. Dontcha see, Vincent, that it don't matter t'me if y'give me death instead o' life? I'd rather that than let ya go. What's th'point in livin' if I can't be with you? There ain't none, not anymore. I'm too far gone." He smiled wryly at that last, knowing how true it was and not caring.

"I am truly sorry for that, Cid…so very sorry." Vincent murmured after he finally forced his damming tears away. "You keep dreaming," he said, stroking Cid's chest gently. "Just keep dreaming, and then perhaps I might feel your joy." As Vincent lay there, curled shamelessly around Cid and staring at the far wall, he wondered why he had to keep ruining things between them. Perhaps he should just not speak, but then Cid would find something else to be sad about. Finally he just said stupidly, "I'm sorry…for everything."

"Fer what? You ain't got nothin' t'be apologizin' for." The oppressing feeling of being dirty over a long period of time was starting to get to Cid, and he stretched his arms above his head. "Now we're even more disgustin'. Oughta go take care o' that," he mumbled, nuzzling at Vincent's head. "Join me?" he asked in an equally low tone.

Vincent hesitated for just a moment, before nodding and sitting up, thinking that there could not be any harm in simply sharing a shower. Cid got out of bed and led the way into the bathroom, turned on the water, and when the temperature was right, drew back the shower curtain and indicated that Vincent precede him. After first severely admonishing himself that Cid had seen him naked _several_ times now, as well as touched him in every intimate place possible, he slid his sleep pants down and stepped carefully under the warm spray. As soon as the water hit him, he felt his muscles begin to relax, and he let his eyes drift shut as he sighed blissfully, moving to completely submerge himself under the pressured spray of water. Tilting his head back, he brought his hands up to run over his hair, smiling as the sound of water drowned everything out…even the sound of Cid getting in the shower behind him.

Admiring the view from behind for a while, Cid was silent and still until Vincent reached for the shampoo. He winced; Vincent probably kept better stuff than that. Regardless, that hair needed washing, and Cid was going to help. He got to the shampoo before Vincent did, smiling when the other man turned to look at him, and covered his hands in the stuff. He twirled a finger, telling Vincent to turn back around. When he did, Cid set to washing, quickly finding the perfect pressure to use as Vincent made soft sounds of contentment. He took his time, scrubbing and lathering and just running his fingers through the dark hair as they rinsed out the first layer and began again.

Facing Vincent now to rinse out the second coat, Cid couldn't help but kiss him, and couldn't help but run his hands appreciatively down the sides of that body, which, Cid had decided while looking earlier, really was perfect. He loved that Vincent was a few inches taller than Cid; he fit perfectly against Vincent. He tucked his face against Vincent's neck when the kiss broke, holding him close and smiling with a pure joy he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Vincent didn't think that he had ever felt such intimacy before, as Cid helped him to wash his hair. There was nothing sexual in the gesture, and yet Cid stood close and felt even closer. As he stood there now within Highwind's strong yet gentle embrace, and under the soothing water, Vincent felt…wanted, special, and he would cherish these feelings for the rest of his life regardless of what the future might bring. Pulling back, he smiled gently at Cid and duplicated the gesture the cop had given him, indicating that Cid should present him his back. With a grin, Cid did as he was told, and Vincent reached for the soap and worked up a rich lather in his hands.

Taking a moment to just gaze at that broad, strong back with its toned muscles and tawny skin, and Vincent made a mental note to ask Cid later how he stayed in shape given the man's propensity to sleep. Standing up close as he was, he could see a light dusting of freckles along Cid's shoulders as well as several scars that he hadn't noticed before. With a little sigh of appreciation, Vincent smoothed his soapy hands over Cid's back, delighting in the way the muscles bunched and relaxed as Cid shifted and moved as he soaped. Then Vincent stepped out of the way and the let the shower spray fall onto Cid's back and watched, entranced as the water sluiced away the soap. When all the soap was rinsed away, leaving behind glistening golden skin, Vincent couldn't stop himself as he leaned down to begin leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses along the breadth of Cid's shoulders, stopping here and there to suck or leave a playful nip. While his mouth was busy, so were his hands as they fumbled for the soap and worked up more lather. After he put the bar back, he slid his arms around Cid's waist and began soaping the cop's ribbed abdomen, shivering as he massaged the soap into the flesh there, working his way slowly up until he could run his hands over Cid's pectorals. Finally, Vincent's mouth trailed up Cid's neck to the man's ear where he sucked on the earlobe Cid had turned in his direction. "You are too good to me, I do not deserve you, you know." He chuckled softly when Cid moaned and tipped his head back to rest upon his shoulder.

"Well, y'have me, an' that's that. Now kiss me." The angle was awkward, as Vincent still wouldn't let him turn around, but they managed with no trouble. Those hands, wonderful hands with their smooth skin and long fingers and manicured nails, kept moving over his chest, massaging firmly and now deliberately passing over his nipples. Cid thought the next shuddering breath he exhaled would send him sprawling back against the man behind him. "Vincent," he huffed, knowing that he would be unable to keep arousal at bay if this kept up, "ain't it my turn yet?" Vincent's hands slowly slid away from him, and they swapped positions as Vincent hesitantly gave Cid his back. Cid soaped with care, mindful of the wounds, some of which still threatened to bleed if disturbed.

It was for this reason only that he abandoned the idea of a washcloth; even the harsh texture of the cloth would have been smoother than Cid's perpetually calloused hands, but the threads would undoubtedly have pulled at scabs. He allowed his hands to drift lower than Vincent's had, but only fleetingly, teasingly. He kissed Vincent's neck as the water poured over them both, then stepped away to allow it to rinse properly. After pushing them both safely out of the spray, he spun Vincent around then, somewhat abruptly but gently enough to keep them from slipping, to kiss him properly again. He grinned as he pulled away, mumbling, "What else needs washin'?" with a raised eyebrow. "Inside o' yer mouth does, I think," he decided, and plunged his tongue back in to administer the proper remedy.

As they kissed, Cid rubbed his hands over Vincent's front, lathering all he could reach with soap. His hands came eventually to rest on the subtle curves of Vincent's hips, and he felt hands on his back again, then arms wrapped around him, and then a shudder that seemed to come from them both as they were brought closer together. The kiss broke, and Cid's hands left Vincent's hips to allow his arms to wrap around the slim waist just above them as his head fell forward onto Vincent's shoulder. He kissed the skin there, bit at it gently, thoroughly worked it over with his mouth until Vincent gasped to let him know it was entirely too sensitive. Having greatly enjoyed his work, Cid moved to the other shoulder to duplicate it.

Red eyes lowering, and humming appreciatively, Vincent tilted his head away from Cid's mouth with a small sigh. The warm water had utterly relaxed him, and Cid's hands and lips had completely awakened all of the sensitive nerves in his skin. Later, he would wonder how a _man_ could manage to call forth these reactions in him, but for right now, no thoughts called his mind their master. Instead, all he did was _feel_. He felt the slick slide of flesh upon flesh as from chest to thigh they were one unit, moving together, rubbing together, in an instinctive dance. Vincent could feel Cid's penis pressing against his own, not quite semi-erect yet, and he reached down to grip Cid's buttocks with both hands and press their bodies more firmly together, parting the firm mounds of flesh as he did so and exposing Cid's tender, secret skin to the direct spray of water. He moaned softly when Cid shuddered, and sought out his mouth once more.

Cid kissed for all he was worth, wanting to be closer. Vincent's hands set to kneading the flesh under them, and that combined with the pressure of the water was making his head spin. He pulled away only to gasp loudly and stumble slightly forward. "Vincent…" If they didn't stop touching each other like this… Cid shuddered again as Vincent released him and put his arms around Cid's waist instead. They stayed like that for some time, Cid thought, but it could in truth have been only a few seconds. The water soon grew cold, though and Cid reluctantly cut it off and followed Vincent out of the shower. He grabbed two towels, not nearly as fluffy as the ones Vincent kept, and handed one to Vincent even as he sank down to start drying Vincent from the ankles up.

Holding his towel to his chest, Vincent watched Cid drying him first without seeing to own wet body, with a mixture of roiling emotions. He was deeply touched, moved, that Cid would do this, and it only strengthened his feeling of belonging. No one had even done these things for him – showered with him, washed his hair, dried him – beyond the lifetime ago when he was but a babe in swaddling clothes. Not even his dear Lucrecia had done anything like this, nor he for her. And this served to only endear Highwind to him even more. He parted his legs obediently as Cid worked his way up, swallowing convulsively at the surge of lust that began to tingle in his belly and thighs as Cid lingered at his groin, eyeing it and licking his lips as if the cop would like nothing more than to take his cock into his mouth…with an internal jolt, Vincent put a stop to that train of thought before he could embarrass himself.

When Cid was once again on his feet and facing him, Vincent gently stopped the man, meeting those blue eyes levelly, warmly, then dropped to his knees and returned the favor. His hair was still dripping, sending rivulets of water down his sides and back, and running into his face, but he diligently kept going. First the feet, then up to the strong calves, Cid's knees – where he noticed a angry scar running over one, and he leaned forward to kiss it lovingly, before moving up to the powerful thighs. He grew nervous and uncomfortable when he arrived at Cid's genitals, but he pushed through it, gently drying and even managing to kiss the tender skin just to the right of the base of Cid's cock, as he wrapped his arms around Cid's waist to dry the man's lower back and buttocks. Finishing that quickly, he then stood, drying as he went until only Cid's hair was wet, and Vincent was looking at Highwind out from under strings of long, wet hair.

Cid hadn't expected Vincent to reciprocate, but the surprise had been a pleasant one. When they were both standing again, he turned Vincent around and wrapped the towel around his hair, gently wringing it before catching the stray drops that had undone his earlier job of drying Vincent. He didn't want to speak; they had been silent for so long, and it had been so meaningful somehow that Cid was almost afraid to lose it. Still, if they remained trapped in their own spell, they would never leave the bathroom. That wouldn't be so bad a fate if it weren't so hot and humid…and if Cid's stomach hadn't taken to growling in complaint. _Guess that settles that_. "I don't keep a hair dryer," he said sheepishly, so y're prob'ly best off lettin' it dry on its own than tryin'a towel-dry it. That'll put knots in it take hours t'get out, hair like that." He ran his hand appreciatively through the already slightly tangled locks. "Might wanna comb it, though. I got one o' them," he said, producing a weak-looking plastic comb that was missing several teeth. "…Well, maybe not," he sighed, "an' you don't have any other clothes t'put on either, do ya? M'gonna hafta start keepin' some stuff here just fer you if y'keep stayin' nights," Cid said, grinning. "C'mon, let's go have brea- uh, brunch, an' see if there's anything worth watchin' on TV, huh? C'n lend ya this robe thingy Shera got me. I don't see no sense in it, me, but it'll prob'ly fit ya better'n more o' my clothes." He opened the bathroom closet and took down the pale yellow terrycloth robe that had been hanging on the inside. He offered it to Vincent, hoping the other man didn't find it nearly as offensive a color as Cid did.

Vincent took the hideous robe in between two fingers, and held it away from him. He looked at Cid and blinked. "I…appreciate it, but…I simply cannot wear this." But nor did he wish to walk around nude. "If you have no objections, I should like to just wear the sleep pants that you loaned me the…last time, I was here." He handed Cid the robe back apologetically. As Cid re-hung the robe with the offer of "Well it's here if'n y'want it," Vincent slipped the discarded sleep pants back on and followed Cid out into the living room, taking up a position on the worn couch and began finger-combing his hair. He then put his hair back in a braid, wishing for a tie of some sort, while Cid wandered into the kitchen.


	30. Chapter 30

Look! We're on schedule! Be proud of us.

...And for the chapter, bear with us. ^^;

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"Anything specific?" Cid called back from the kitchen, head stuck into the refrigerator. He had no more pancake batter, but he did have bread, a toaster, cheese, eggs, and some sliced ham that didn't appear to be too old; someone had been shopping for him while he'd been unable to do it himself.

"Not really," Vincent called back as he began to search for the remote. "As long it won't kill me or make me ill, I'm pretty easy." He said distractedly as he dug in between the couch cushions. Finally finding it with a satisfied "Ah-ha!" he plopped himself back down onto the couch and began flipping through channels before remembering with chagrin that what he was doing was indeed quite rude. Setting the remote down on the coffee table – where he could find it again – he got up and wandered into the kitchen. "May I help with anything?"

Cid grinned sheepishly again. "Might wanna help, yeah, if y'want somethin' that won't make ya sick." He tried to keep his eyes from wandering over Vincent's body; those pants really rode much too low. "Prob'ly just gonna make sandwiches, though, with this stuff," he said, gesturing at the ingredients he'd laid on the table. "Build yer own." He smiled, shrugging. He couldn't help himself, though, when Vincent turned to the table. Cid stepped up behind him and put his arms around him, feeling the warmth of Vincent's flesh against his own. "While you do that, I'mma go put somethin' on. Don't reckon visitors'd be too pleased with me, if we get any."

Vincent snorted. "Probably not, no." He actually didn't mind Cid being behind him, nor of the man's arms around him. But it would make him more comfortable if Cid put something on. So while Highwind did that Vincent set about putting together a simple a simple sandwich but decided on something a little more elaborate. "Cid?" He called, "May I use your skillet, if you have one?"

"F'you c'n find it," Cid called back from the hallway. He felt good now; he had showered and was wearing clean clothes, and hardly anything was better than that feeling. It made him want to do something with his day, to go somewhere…maybe get back into his workout routine. He'd been neglecting that for some time. Still…the urge to just stay in with Vincent was even stronger, and it was that he gave in to. "Should be in that cabinet there," he said as he reentered the kitchen and found Vincent still searching. "One o' them little ol' bitty ones y're s'posed'a take campin' an' shit. There we go." Cid pulled out the skillet, which was still in its box, though the box was not in very good shape. "Tell th'truth, I dunno if it works 'r not. He pulled it out of the box and poked at it experimentally, deciding that it was probably safe to plug in.

Vincent blinked, momentarily confused as Cid brought out a portable griddle, and then reached forward to still the man's movements. "Cid, darling, that is a _griddle_," he chuckled, looking up into the cabinet and catching sight of what he was after. Reaching up he snagged it and held up the frying pan. "This," he flicked the bottom of it with his fingers and making a hollow, metallic 'tonk' sound. "Is a skillet. I thought I might make a fried ham and cheese sandwich with egg, would you like me to make you one as well?"

"Uh." Cid was blushing, and he knew it. He frequently made a fool of himself, but he hated for that to happen in front of Vincent. Hated it a lot. "Guess," he said, shrugging, then realized he was only making it worse by being grumpy. "Show-off," he teased, nudging Vincent with an elbow. A corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. "But I bet ya can't make as much of a mess as I can."

"I'm sure that I can't." Vincent chuckled. "At any rate, you will forgive me if I do not attempt it." Making quick work of turning on the stove, heating the pan and frying up the eggs, he then put on the bread, ham and melted cheese over the lot of it. When the whole mess was done, he dumped the bottom halves of the sandwiches out onto plates, slapped the egg on top, and then toasted the top slice of bread in the toaster. Mission completed, he help up Cid's plate, grinning, "Voila."

Cid blinked. It took him that amount of time to get dressed some mornings. "Well," he said, and that was all he said, but a very large grin had taken up residence on his face. "Have a seat, then," he said as he took his plate and placed it on the table. "Somethin' t'drink?"

"Water shall be sufficient, thank you." Vincent said quietly as he hesitantly sat down at the table. "I hope you _thoroughly_ cleaned this, Cid."

Cid grinned and took his seat after handing Vincent a bottle of cool water. "An' what if I didn't?" he asked quietly."I ain't been home since then, not really. 'Sides, there wouldn't be nothin' on it but us, an' there ain't no harm in that." He would have kept up the charade, but Vincent seemed on the verge of moving back to the couch. "I scrubbed it, an' Shera did too when she guessed. Damn perceptive women."

"She _knew_?" Vincent whispered, horrified. Putting his sandwich down, he groaned and placed his face in his hands. It was bad enough that he had to remember being spread out on his back like some main course, moaning and sucking Cid's fingers while he jerked off and been…but to have someone _else _know about it? Someone who wouldn't understand? Shame burned his face bright red.

Cid chuckled. "Don't you worry yer pretty little head over her. She won't ever say nothin'. Not t'you, an' not t'anyone else. Only reason I know she knew is 'cause she blushed 'bout th'color you are now." His eyes softened on Vincent, who still seemed to be struggling with this for some reason. "Don't be ashamed of anything we do t'gether, Vincent. C'n ya try t'do that for me? I ain't ashamed. I know I'm damned lucky that y'trust me enough t'come back here after that, an' I'm glad for it."

"I'm not, that is what bothers me," Vincent said looking down at his plate and poking at his sandwich. "Not really…okay, perhaps a little…some." He mumbled, slumping in his seat. He pushed his plate away from him. "But _why_ does it bother me, Cid? I'm not gay, I don't…I haven't…oh gods," he broke off, horrified, as he realized what it was that had been 'off' since the beginning. "I'm gay?" He looked up at Cid pleadingly, desperately hoping Cid would tell him was just imagining things, but knowing deep down that he would not get that reassurance. "I'm gay," he said flatly, staring at the table as though condemned.

"No you ain't. Yer openminded. An' damn anybody who tries tellin' ya anything about it. 'Sides, nobody needs t'know what happens 'tween us 'cept us." Cid set down his sandwich and moved to stand behind Vincent. "Close yer eyes." He waited until Vincent had complied, then set both hands on the other man's shoulders. "Now don't think about who I am, who you are, what diff'rences there might be b'tween us…or similarities. Just feel." He began massaging Vincent's shoulders earnestly, albeit a bit clumsily. After a few moments, when Vincent's breathing was even and the muscles under Cid's hands had relaxed a bit, Cid leaned forward and kissed him behind the ear, down his neck and back up. "Whaddaya feel now?"

"Shivery," Vincent whispered, and did indeed shiver. "My body tingles. I feel lips, heat, pressure. I want to touch. I feel...aching, my stomach is churning…desire…" He waited; his skin alive with anticipation for what might come next.

Cid shivered in response before continuing, "An' if a woman had done it? One ya really liked? Would ya feel th'same way, y'reckon?" More kisses then; he couldn't waste this moment on speaking alone.

Vincent's mind whirled back to the first time Lucrecia had instigated foreplay by kissing his bare back, and feathering her fingers down his spine and up his sides, her long, soft hair falling around them in a sweet-smelling curtain. He had felt the same, and yet it had been vastly different. He tipped his head back, exposing his throat, and gripped the edge of his chair, hard, feeling the muscles of his forearms bunch tightly. It was a simple question with such a complicated answer! "Yes," breathed out before he knew what had happened.

Cid smiled almost sadly; he knew Vincent must be thinking of Lucrecia. Keeping his hands on Vincent's shoulders, he moved to stand beside the chair and gently lifted one of Vincent's arms, prepared to pry it from the chair but finding that it came free quite easily. He brought the hand of that arm to his waist, his back. "Touch. Don't look yet, but touch."

With a shuddering breath, Vincent did as he was told, slowly sliding his hands over skin that was rougher than a woman's, and yet no less soft in its unique texture. Where a woman's skin was smooth, he now encountered tiny imperfections, and fine hairs. The body under his hands was hard, flat, lacking the rich and yielding curves possessed by a woman. The presence was strong, dominant; it drew him, yet made him afraid. There was power under his hands, he could feel the need for control in the very way that body stood beside him. But under it all, he felt the tiny, light fluttering of muscle as his fingers traced hard planes. He heard the fine hitching of a breath that came in short pants. His brows furrowed and he shook his head, confused, "I.."

"Shh. An' when y'touched her?" Oh, he hated to reference her directly, but one could only dance around a topic so much.

"Cherry blossoms," Vincent whispered shakily. "She smelled of cherry blossoms in the summer sun." But that wasn't what Cid was asking, was it? "Shivering, panting, so very soft." Unconsciously, Vincent began to pet Cid's abdomen. He leaned forward and ran his lips back and forth over the skin he found there. "Breath hitching, a sigh, a caress, a whispered word, peace…"

"Ohh…" It was so very hard to keep his focus now. "Vincent," he whispered, caught between flinching away and begging for more. His hands, which had been gripping the back of the chair since Vincent had started touching him, now moved to glide over Vincent's sides. "Y'see?" he panted. "You c'n appreciate her body; c'n do th'same with mine. C'n bring pleasure t'either of us, an' either of us c'd bring it t'you. You c'n want her, c'n want me- hell, you c'd love both of us if y'ever got yer mind around to it. 'Gay' is a label, Vincent. A title. Somethin' people get slapped on 'em fer silly reasons, or somethin' they slap on themselves fer even sillier ones. It doesn't mean anything on its own, nothin' but 'happy,' right? Y're too strong, Vincent, t'let th'fear of a title keep ya from what y'want." Cid was trembling now, all over; he couldn't quite figure out just how Vincent kept doing this to him. He kept caressing, kissed a hand that wandered up far enough for him to reach with his mouth, and said quietly, "Who d'ya see right now, Vincent? Not her, an' it's not me, is it? It's just _someone_, someone who loves ya, someone who wants t'make ya feel good, an' that's what matters."

But he did. Vincent _did _see her, with her long brown hair, unbound and blowing about her pixie-like face as she laughed, and her enormous brown eyes filled with the dancing light of love for only him. She was dressed in a white summer dress, the one he had bought her for her birthday the year before they married. She held a yellow lily to her nose and her other hand was outstretched to him. Nearly fourteen years now she had been gone, and Cid had summoned her forth as easily as though he had command over the dead. He turned in his chair, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Cid's waist, and rested his cheek against the man in front of him. _Sleep now, sweetheart_, he thought as she slowly faded from his minds-eye, the simple fresh-water pearl at her throat flashing with the white light of a single snowflake in the sun. _You do not want to come back to me now_. And as she faded away with a whispered _I love you_, he realized that Lucrecia was the one who must let him go; or rather _he_ must let _her_ go. The creature he was now did not deserve that heaven any longer, not that he ever had. He tightened his arms around Cid's waist and shut his eyes. "_Someone…_" He murmured in Wutainese. "_Will you be that someone now, Cid? Will you be my light in the long dark of damnation?"_ Deep down, he realized that male or female, it didn't really matter when you felt as you did towards another. He could learn, _he could_…all he needed was time. He looked up at Cid, his mind made up. "I would like to try," he said in the language of Midgar…the consequences and Sephiroth be damned.

Cid's chest ached as Vincent clung to him. He must have loved her so much…what wouldn't Cid give to be loved so much? He could think of nothing, save his own love for Vincent, that he would refuse to trade to Fate for a love like that. But then, bought love was insincere by definition, and that was a burden he would not wish on himself or the other party. But to be loved that way, the way he loved Vincent, the way Vincent loved Lucrecia…! Having seen it in action, the prospect of a life without it left Cid feeling as if he had been stabbed through the heart. Still, he decided it would be enough to bestow that love upon another and hope that one day it would be returned.

He rested a hand on Vincent's head and the other around his shoulders as they remained that way, silence unbroken until Vincent spoke. This time, the Wutainese babbling was a little disconcerting; it sounded so much sadder now. Still, the foreign words falling from Vincent's lips, especially while they still lay against his skin, sent a shudder of desire through Cid. The next words, this time fully understandable, shot a potent dose of hope and joy through his veins. He wanted to thank Vincent, to shout to the heavens how grateful he was for just the _chance_, but he settled for bending to kiss Vincent's forehead, which was about all he could reach with Vincent's arms still around him. His hands shook as he cupped Vincent's face. He was sure his elation showed in his eyes as they looked at each other. "I love you," he murmured, needing to say something just to prove to himself that he was really here. "Can we- Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," Vincent breathed.

Cid sighed in relief and closed his eyes briefly before leaning over awkwardly, which loosened Vincent's grip on him, and pressing his lips to the other man's gently. Their mouths remained closed for a long time as, with infinite care, Cid kissed Vincent's face and lips, trying to learn to use his actions instead of his words to show what he wanted to say. Vincent seemed to respond better to that, and he wouldn't want to try to make Vincent change. Soon his lips were back on Vincent's, and his tongue was teasing along Vincent's bottom lip for just a moment before the mouth under his opened to him easily, almost eagerly.

Cid kissed passionately, firmly, but still tenderly, trying not to be carried away by fleeting stabs of lust that threatened to knock him off his feet if they came any closer. He distantly heard himself moan into the kiss as he attempted to forcibly divert his mind. Their tongues moved together in almost perfect rhythm, as if they had spent years learning to kiss each other and had perfected the art. His hands had moved, and one rested on the back of Vincent's neck while the other rested low on his back. The curve Cid was making with his body would probably have been uncomfortable had the reward not been so pleasant. He pressed further forward and felt a stumble coming on; he'd manage to make his position even less stable. He attempted to rock back on his heels, but that did no good.

The hand on Vincent's back flew up to grip the back of the chair instead, and Cid broke the kiss briefly to sigh in relief. If he'd sent both of them toppling over- well, it probably would have been funny after they'd examined the damage done, but it would also have quite thoroughly ruined the mood…whatever this mood was. He gently tugged Vincent up to stand with him, then set to kissing him again, holding him close and very firmly not caring that he had managed to break the chair a little.

Vincent's head swam. He was dizzy, aroused, confused…consumed, by Cid. He was distantly aware of Cid standing him up, but became a bit more lucid, but no less aroused when the cop reached around behind him and pushed his plate and uneaten sandwich back on the table. He moaned when Cid forced him to sit on the table and maneuvered in between his thighs, spreading them wide apart to press their bodies together. When Cid began tugging at his waistband, Vincent's mind cleared and he broke the kiss. "C-Cid, no, not the…table again, please…" Only to lose the rest of his protestation in another devouring kiss. Cid was moving so _fast_…too fast!

"Just wanna touch ya, I just want…" Cid lost himself in kissing Vincent, registering after a few more hungry moments that he had heard the word "no," something he had promised to respond to. He slowed, stopped, and pulled back. "Stop?" he asked morosely, pangs of guilt plaguing him for feeling as put out as he did.

Vincent was trembling, and had to wrap his arms around Cid to keep from all out shaking. "It's just too fast, Cid, I'm sorry." He gasped between panted breaths. He could feel Cid's erection pressing hard against his own groin, and he knew that it had to be terribly uncomfortable. He brought his lips back to Cid's in a slow, deep kiss that he used to hide his nerves upon his next question. Pulling back far enough to speak, he reached down in between Cid's legs and rubbed the concealed, hard length he felt there. "Would you like me to pleasure you?"

Cid made a sound then that could have been called a groan had it not been so ridiculously drawn out and tortured. Vincent's hand felt so good, and he just barely touching…Cid had to calm down. "I know. Always go too fast, m'sorry. Y'just get me so goddamn worked up." He rested his head against Vincent's, panting. He hadn't yet answered Vincent's question, but he figured the way he was barely keeping himself from rutting against Vincent's hand was probably answer enough. He spoke again anyway. "I…yeah. I'd like that. I'd like it a lot. But not unless I get t'do th'same fer you." Trying to chase the light contact of Vincent's touch and trying to cool down were not compatible, so he stopped moving. "What would…what would y'like t'do?" he asked, hoping Vincent had some suggestion. Cid, at this point, would be up for just about anything that involved himself and Vincent.

Vincent didn't know what Cid meant by that, but he spared it no further thought as he swallowed and steeled himself for the task at hand. If there was one thing that he _was_ good at, it was giving a man oral pleasure. He gently pushed Cid back, and eased off of the table. Nausea twisted his gut almost painfully, but he choked it back. "Just-" he broke off as his voice caught in his throat. He cleared it quietly and turned so that he could guide Highwind down onto the chair that he had just vacated, cheeks hot. "Just sit, that is all you have to do." With his heart thundering in his chest and echoing in his ears, he dropped down onto his knees and tugged at Cid's boxers until they were over the man's hips and down around his ankles, then off. He took a moment to look at the thick, erect cock in front of him. _I can do this_, he thought as he attempted to regulate his breathing. He shut his eyes and found that still, cold place in his mind that let him focus. Then with a sort of detached determination he set to work.

"Oh." Cid's mouth fell open to form an 'o' as he emitted that soft exclamation at the feeling of Vincent's tongue running over him. He remained entranced for only a few seconds before realizing what he was allowing. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Not like this." He gently lifted Vincent's head away from him and continued, "Not on yer knees like that. Not fer me. Not ever fer me." He also slid to his knees and kissed Vincent much the same way he had earlier. "Y're better'n that, an' y'don't hafta act like you ain't." They needed to be out of the kitchen, maybe even off the floor. He was saddened by the knowledge that Vincent still seemed to think he had an obligation to please Cid for nothing in return…or even to please him at all. Even so, he was a little concerned that a flat-out refusal to accept what he was willing to give would offend Vincent somehow. They would compromise. "If y'wanna give that t'me, I'll gladly take it, but only if y'let me do it too." He stood shakily and extended a hand to Vincent. "Be more comf'table back in bed, I reckon."

Vincent only heard the buzzing in his ears, as a cold chill shot down his spine. He had cringed when Cid had touched him, stiffened when the cop had kissed him. "Yes, sir." He whispered, taking Cid's hand and standing obediently, keeping is eyes downcast. He was frightened, nervous and on the verge of panic. By default, Vincent had slipped into survival mode, and was running on sheer reflex that would best please his partner and keep him from getting hurt. "May we please stay here, sir?" He asked, his eyes wide and flicking around the room. At least here, he could see what was coming at him; bedrooms meant blood, bathrooms meant water… "_Please_?" He was shaking so hard now that his teeth were chattering.

Cid went very quickly from alarmed to angry at Shinra to downright terrified. "I- of course we can. Course we can." He was afraid to touch Vincent anymore, and afraid not to. All thoughts of pleasure had fled him, and he knew his erection was deflating, but he did not care. '_Sir_,' Vincent had called him…Cid never wanted to hear the word from Vincent's mouth again. He wanted to chastise, but knew that would only send things downhill more quickly, wanted to rage at Shinra but could not bear to make Vincent flinch away from him. "Vincent, what…what can I do t'make it better? Please tell me," he said, barely restraining a dry sob. "I didn't mean t'make you afraid o' me. That's th'last thing I want." He grabbed hold of both of Vincent's hands and held them gently, stroking the backs with his thumbs. He tried to capture Vincent's eyes with his own, but the red ones were still flitting around the room, looking for an escape their owner would not dare to make. "Do- do you want me…not to touch ya? I don't…Vincent, I don't know," he whispered. And here he had thought the only way Vincent could break his heart was to walk out the door.

Why wasn't he doing anything? Why weren't they going anywhere? Vincent's breathing came faster and faster, and he broke out into a sweat. He wanted to pull his hands out of the grip that held then, but he didn't dare because then those hands would hit him, or choke him. So he stood frozen, legs locked in place as his panic rose to an unbearable level. Finally his body could take no more and his eyes rolled up in his head and he fainted dead away, hitting the floor with a dull thud.


	31. Chapter 31

Aaaand the anticlimactic follow-up to last week's cliffhanger. :D

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"I- wha- ?" Cid very nearly began panicking in earnest as Vincent fell, pulling Cid with him. He was very much chagrined for not having the foresight to catch Vincent as he fell, but then he was otherwise occupied. He bent over Vincent's still body, concerned for half a second that the other man might have died. Painstakingly, he lifted Vincent's body, though he knew he should probably leave him alone. Cid carried him to the couch and lay him on it, then returned to the kitchen for a glass of water in case Vincent wanted it when he woke. He sat, still stunned, on the floor next to the sofa and waited for Vincent to come back to him, running a hand through the dark locks as he did.

Several minutes later and with a soft groan, Vincent's eyes fluttered open. He was looking at a ceiling, pristine, white, and smooth. He shifted a little and heard the creaking of worn, old leather. He was on a couch that was not his own, in an apartment that was, likewise, not his own. He brought his hands up and rubbed his face, then blinked rapidly and focused on a familiar face peering down at him. Resituating his head upon the pillow that was under it, he frowned slightly as he took in Cid's pale, concerned face. Lines of worry creased the cop's forehead, and the man's lips were pressed together in a tight line, while his blue eyes gazed at him warily as if waiting for something. "Cid?" He asked, confusion clouding his mind. "What happened?"

"You-" he had to stop talking as a sigh of relief left him in a huge gust of breath. "Guess y'kinda…freaked out on me. Yer head all right? Y'hit th'floor 'cause I didn't see it comin'." Vincent seemed aware of Cid now, and he wasn't going to mention the…incident. Not even to himself, apparently; he caught his mind already skimming over the details and trying to erase them.

Vincent frowned. "Hit the flo-" He trailed off as the details began to come back to him in a rush. "Oooohhhh, " he breathed, hand coming up to cover his mouth. "Oh, Cid, I'm so sorry, I-" He didn't know what to say. He had indeed "freaked out". "I suppose I owe you an explanation, don't I?" he asked softly.

Cid shook his head. "No, you don't owe me anything, Vincent. It's enough fer me that y've snapped out of it now. But you do know I'd never use ya like that, right?" His eyes stared into Vincent's, needing to see the answer as well as hear it to determine its sincerity. Cid took Vincent's hand away from his mouth and held it between his own hands. "It…it scared me, seein' you like that," he admitted. "It was my fault. I shouldn't'a pushed like I did. I'm sorry," he said, kissing the hand in his grasp.

"Oh, Cid," Vincent said sadly. "I know you wouldn't, and I'm sorry you had to see that. I just- I just felt…_trapped_." He pulled his hand out of Cid's grasp to lay it against the man's cheek. "You do not need to apologize; I should not have reacted that way." He averted his eyes. "I am…damaged, I know this. But it is not you. I-" He took a deep, unsteady breath and plunged ahead. "I have never…sought the companionship of another man before…by choice. My only experiences have been…unpleasant…ones." He knew he was babbling, and it embarrassed him, but he somehow wanted Cid to know that the man had done nothing wrong. "Do you still wish to try? Knowing what you know? Even if it means we might never be able to…" He couldn't finish, blushing furiously and fidgeting where he lay.

Cid leaned into Vincent's hand. "'Course I do. Ain't none o' that news t'me, Vincent." He kissed the palm of the hand on his face. "Th'real question is if _you_ still wanna try. I'll be with ya as long as y'll let me, an' I don't- I don't _need_ anything in return, but I'm gonna want. I can't help that, but I can restrain m'self, unlike everyone else y'seem to've been with. Don't ever need t'feel trapped. All y'gotta do is tell me t'back off, an' I will. Might not be happy about it at first, but I'll know we're both better off goin' at a pace yer comf'table with." He felt so guilty now for wanting Vincent so badly and for being so ready to take things Vincent was not ready to give. "Doesn't matter what we do an' don't do, so long as y'let me stay close." He was caught, too, on Vincent's use of the word "damaged." He wanted to protest it, to offer some alternative- but what was there to say? "I'm shit at lots o' things, Vincent, but I c'n fix just about anything. If y're 'damaged,' like ya seem t'think, I reckon it's my job t'make it better."

"Thank you." Vincent breathed, relieved. "Thank you." But he felt that he needed to give Cid _something_. Shakily, he sat up and faced Cid, studying the earnest face in front of him before he leaned forward and kissed Cid's lips. "I will try, Cid. That is all that I can promise right now." He traced the lines on Cid's forehead with cold fingers. "You have awakened such things inside of me…feelings I have not felt since Lucrecia." He was surprised that saying her name came so easily, and the pain that he had expected to feel was dull, muted. "What would I give to be able to put words to those feelings," he wondered thoughtfully. "I am in a different world when I am with you. When I am with you, everything else seems like a dream, a bad dream, and that is all." He could see from Cid's expression that guilt was still very prevalent. "You did nothing wrong, Cid, and I do not blame you." He just hoped that Cid would believe him.

_I didn't do anything right, either_, Cid thought, but smiled for Vincent when he pulled away. "Thank ya. It kills me, thinkin' I mighta hurt ya." Lucrecia. Cid loved her and hated her; was angry at her and grateful to her. She had hurt Vincent, had left him vulnerable and alone –though it was not entirely her own choice- but without that, Cid would likely have never met the man, let alone have a shot at…this, whatever this tentative arrangement was. He kissed both of Vincent's hands, then turned around and rested his head against Vincent's knees. That was all the contact he deserved, and all he would request. "Lessee what's on th'TV, huh?" he asked, injecting a smile into his voice. They had hardly started eating before everything had hit the fan, but he, for one, was not hungry anymore. He leaned more heavily against Vincent's legs to counter the distance he knew he was probably projecting. Cid would much prefer a quiet, moderately intimate moment between the two of them, but he knew he would find a way to ruin that if it were granted to him, so he satisfied himself with this.

Vincent left him alone, instead opting for separating his legs so that Cid had to either lean back uncomfortably or scoot back to rest against the couch, which the man chose to do. When Cid was comfortable again, Vincent began running his fingers through the cop's wild blond hair, which was thicker than it looked. He didn't really pay attention to Cid's infuriating channel surfing, rather he was completely absorbed in petting Cid's hair; running his fingers through it and scratching Cid's scalp lightly. "You have had a hard life, haven't you, Cid Highwind?" He asked distractedly. "I have been so selfish, whining about my own petty problems, while the world slowly ate away at you." He rested his chin on his hand that was propped on the armrest, while the other ran through Cid's hair and he continued to talk to himself. He didn't expect Cid to answer, given the man's melancholy state that he had done such a spectacular job at inducing. "I admire you; holding out while the world tried to crush you under its heel. And I only helped it along didn't I? I shall do better. Yes, I shall do better by you." He smiled in a weird sort of serenity right before a loud gurgle made his hand still and his face heat up in embarrassment. "Hm, it would seem that that sandwich has resumed its appeal after all."

Disbelief materialized alongside the growing guilt that preyed upon Cid at Vincent's little monologue. He wasn't complaining about his problems; he never would in light of Vincent's, and he could not understand why it was suddenly about him, or why Vincent's presence suddenly felt so hostile despite the hair-stroking and pleasant, thoughtful tone. Cid set down the remote carefully to avoid the thud that would come with dropping it before crossing his arms over his chest. He was almost angry, he realized as he felt himself starting to shake. He'd apologized, hadn't he? He'd tried to understand even though he knew he never could. _Why, Vincent?_ "Then go eat. Ain't nobody stoppin' ya."

He was being bitter, though he had no right to do so, but today was threatening to stretch his emotions beyond their limits. Only barely resisting the urge to jerk his head away from Vincent's hand, he thought, _I can't do anything but try, either, Vincent. There's really no need t'be so cruel._ "M'sorry," he said grudgingly, realizing that he was allowing himself to do exactly what Vincent had accused him of doing, "I shouldn't snap. I'll just wait here."

Vincent had recoiled at Cid's tone, pulling his hand away as though bitten, painfully confused. _What did I say?_ he thought, bewildered. He eased out from behind Cid silently and went back in to sit at the cursed table that he would rather see turned into scrap lumber. Alongside his confusion was hurt, mild anger that was mostly directed at himself and a kind of desperation. He didn't really _want_ the sandwich, especially now, but the necessity of food drove him to sit at the table, leaning heavily on an elbow and slowly begin to finish it. He wanted to be away from Cid right now, he wanted to call Tseng, but forced himself not to because of the problems that would create. Suddenly the apartment stopped feeling warm and welcoming, it felt cold and foreign. _Who am I kidding_, he thought acidly. _I'll try? _He snorted to himself. _I'm more suited to my life than I had realized. All I am good at is destroying. I pride myself at reading emotions, but when have I become so superficial?_ Hate, that was what he felt now. A dark, and violent cloud that settled around him, wrapping its icy fingers about his throat._ You were right, Sephiroth, all along. Everything you told me in The Pen was right, just as everything you told me in your dream was right. I _have _lost my way_. He finished the sandwich, but continued to sit at the table, staring sightlessly at the wall. He felt, disjointed, numb, as though he were looking at his life from the outside, objectively. _Am I finished here? What is keeping me here? Loyalty? Pity? Hope? Friendship?_ He didn't know anymore.

Now that Vincent was gone, Cid wished he hadn't been so cold. He wrapped his arms around himself tighter, feeling the chain and hearing the clink of the tags Vincent had given him. Did they still mean anything now? To Cid, they did. They meant all they had meant the night before, as did the words he planned to put on them…as did Vincent. He loved no less, never could; he had only made yet another mistake to add to his infinitely long list. He wrapped a hand around the tags as he ran the other through his hair, sighing gustily. He still loved, and he would fight for it…as soon as he figured out how. He owed that to the both of them. Standing, Cid made for the kitchen uncertainly and took the seat across from Vincent, making as little noise as he could.

He rested his head in his hands, eyes covered, for a few seconds until he looked up and rested his chin in them instead. Absurdly, he wanted to smile as he reflected on all the good things they had experienced together. Where was that tenderness they'd found this morning in the shower? Had it left them with the last traces of the night? No; the sun had been fully awake when Vincent had cooked for him. "Skillet," he croaked, nodding at the frying pan that still sat on the stove.

"Excuse me?" Vincent asked, glancing up at Cid and looking somewhat affronted.

Cid sighed again. "Look, Vincent…what is this? What're we doin'?" _Why do I always hurt ya so much?_

Vincent stared at Cid a moment, expressionless, before he said coldly. "Why don't you tell me?" He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Tell me what's on your mind."

"On my mind," Cid muttered wonderingly. "You want me t'tell ya so you c'n turn it against me again an' make me out t'be th'kind o' man y're used to? I'm not that kind o' man, Vincent. Never thought I was better'n you. Never thought I was worth more'n you. Never once have I even so much as thought that my sufferin' even compared t'yours. Why did you say that?" he demanded, a fresh wave of hurt washing over him at the recollection of the stinging words.

Vincent snorted. "No, you are not 'better' than me and I can give you a long list of reasons _why_ you are not. And no, you are _not_ that kind of man. But that is not the issue here. It has never _been_ the issue for some time now." He leaned forward and pinned Cid with a level stare. "I can predict people, Highwind. That is what I do, that is what I deal with every day. But you…you I cannot predict. You want to know why I said that?" He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his scarred chest. "Because I foolishly thought you might _want_ to know that someone actually cares about you. That someone might actually _want_ to know about your life that made you who you are. But I guess I was wrong." He would have left it at that, but then he figured that it all needed to be on the table, so he finished with, "And I really hate how weak you make me feel. That is 'why I said that'. All I do when I come here is relive my failures. I fall into your arms like a weak-willed female, weep and bemoan _my_ life. So you shall have to forgive me my recognizing my inattentiveness to you and your needs."

"Well, you can't say y'didn't know I was bad at acceptin' attention. An' you'll hafta forgive me for not understandin' what y'meant to do, seein' as every other time anybody's said anything like that, they meant t'hurt me. It was only last night that I promised I'd work on it, 'member? I'm not th'type o' man who c'n change overnight. Look, Vincent, I never said you were wrong when y'said we come from two diff'rent worlds. We do, that's true enough. An' just coexistin' peacefully c'n be hard enough, never mind a relationship. An' y're right, too, that my life ain't been a piece o' cake. If I'd known y'meant what y'said th'way y'did, I would've responded th'way y'meant me to." He took a deep breath; he had no idea where the words came from, but they were coming, and that would do for now.

"Nobody ever promised me anything. Nobody ever told me I could be anything I wanted, or that I could grow up t'do wonderful things. I think that's th'way it should be, 'cause promises like that, they make people think things'll be easy. Nothin's easy, Vincent." He dragged his eyes away from the table, to which his glance had fled after a few moments of Vincent's stare. He looked into those eyes again. "An' you said yerself that y'feel stronger after y'leave here. Everybody's weak sometime, Vincent, and I'm honored that y'let it be around me. Th'weak are vulnerable, an' if you trust me enough t'look out for ya while y're feelin' weak…I think that says a lot. I'm tryin' t'learn t'do the same, because you deserve my trust too. I can say so easily that I love ya an' that I wanna give you everything, but I hold back, I know. I don't wanna get hurt any more than you do, but I'm not as strong as you. Not as brave as you." He set one hand on the table, palm up, in supplication. "Y've said that y'll try, Vincent, and those words are the only promise anyone's ever made me that hasn't been broken yet. Will you keep it fer all its struggles, an' keep me, fer all my faults?"

Vincent had stopped listening mid-way through Cid's little speech, the man wasn't saying anything that he didn't already know. He knew, better than anyone, that life was hard and that people didn't change overnight. Did Cid think he was really that stupid? But his attention was snapped back into focus by Cid's question, and he realized that he had trapped himself into this by his own word. But was it such a bad thing? Hadn't he been honest when he'd told Cid that the man had made him feel things that he hadn't felt in years? Hadn't he shown weakness to Cid, and had the man only sought to give him comfort? Didn't the cop listen to his fears, his sorrows without judgment? And yet those words of comfort were so quickly given! They had stopped carrying any meaning, and had only become words. Did he even _care_ that Cid professed to love him? He searched his heart and found with a stab of sorrow that he did not. So how then, could he return those feelings? Vincent reached up and rubbed his suddenly throbbing temple. Indecision tore at him while his brain and his heart warred with each other. In the end his honor trumped them both. He had given his word, and he would stand by that, come what may. Without a word, he placed his hand in Cid's.

Cid flinched as Vincent's hand found his. It meant nothing; Vincent was operating like a robot. He wanted to pull his away, but that would only have made things worse. Instead, he held tighter, and said, "If my words, or my word, don't mean anything t'you, then why does yours? An' why should yours mean anything t'me when you give it like this?" he asked, lifting their joined hands as if examining them. "All right. Why don't you tell me, then? What's on _your_ mind, Mr. Valentine?"

"You wish to know what is on my mind, Mr. Highwind?" Vincent said in a smooth voice. "All right, then I shall tell you. In two days time I am going to leave ShinRa and take down a giant. I shall inherit all of his wealth and assets, and own his company. I shall then have to placate and cater to all of the allies and contacts that Rufus has managed to acquire by _any_ means necessary. I shall then have to avert multiple turf wars the interruption in power shall create in the mako supply and flow. I shall have to find out how to manage a madman who _destroyed my life_, without him knowing of my existence. I shall have to find some way to convince the authorities that I am legitimate while not alienating my current contacts and foreign business partners. All while I try to keep from getting killed. And now I find all of that complicated exponentially by one man. You. You, Cid Highwind, sitting here across from me and continuing to tell me that you love me. You, Mr. Highwind, are now the most powerful man in Midgar. You have usurped me. You now have the power to destroy me utterly; to unravel my world, unmake everything I have suffered to create. And that bothers me, it angers me…it frightens me." He squeezed Cid's hand unconsciously, not in anger, but rather as though he were searching for some kind of support, comfort, contact. "But what truly _terrifies _me, is the fact that I would _give _you all that I have, all that I am, if you asked it of me. Can you _possibly_ wrap your brain around that? You have upended my world. You dangerously distract me from what needs to be done. I would walk away from you; wash my hands of you except for one thing." He held up a free forefinger. "Do you know what that one thing is, Mr. Highwind?

Cid shook his head, holding Vincent's gaze levelly. "What?" he whispered.

"I need you. You have somehow become invaluable to me, because you remind me that I am still alive…in here." He made a fist and thumped his chest firmly, once. "That is why I wish to 'try.' Because you make me feel warm, you make me feel as though I am not alone. I have Tseng, I have the others…but somehow you have transcended them, and I don't know how." He sat back in his chair, but kept their hands linked. "_That_ is what is on my mind, Mr. Highwind," he whispered.

Cid had continued listening to and watching Vincent, surprised that he felt no guilt at the thought of having the power to make Vincent's entire world collapse around him. He felt only warmth at the knowledge that he would never allow it to happen as long as he lived. He should not have been surprised to know it; Vincent had become the center of his world as well, and Cid had given up the rest. Vincent could not afford to do that, but Cid sensed that he wished it were possible. He could wrap his brain around it, and easily; couldn't Vincent see that? Hadn't Cid already proven that he felt the same way? Not clearly enough, it seemed, or not in the right ways. "I can't say that I'm sorry fer that, so I won't try. And I won't be any help in strategies 'r negotiations or nothin', but I can promise t'be here for ya when y'need a break dealin' with all that. I mean, I know it don't go away just 'cause yer not directly dealin' with it, but just th'same. I c'n listen, an' I c'n make an effort t'distract ya, and I will not let you regret needin' me. That power y'say I have…I couldn't ever take advantage of it. And I would never ask you t'give everything t'me. That has t'be done on yer own decision, when y're ready, an' not just because I asked. Don't feel like you have any obligation t'me, Vincent, 'cause you don't. If I thought I c'd give that power back, I'd do it in a heartbeat t'let you have control over all o' this. But I can't, Vincent, because it ain't somethin' that happens at will, an' it'd prob'ly only make things worse for ya. Just rest assured knowin' that I'll never knowingly use it against ya. It's safe with me. _You're_ safe with me."

Vincent hadn't expected Cid to fully comprehend the full magnitude of what he had to say, and he wasn't disappointed. But he _did_ believe the man when Cid said that he was safe with him, and it eased some apprehension in him. But he also knew that every man could be broken, and he was concerned that Cid might be put in that position because of him. There was still a buzzing in his head- from what, he didn't know- and he rubbed his temple again, muttering, "My head hurts."

"Okay," Cid said. "Okay." He rubbed his thumb over the back of Vincent's hand a few more times before pulling his hand away and standing. He went to the bathroom to find a bottle of aspirin, but before he left, he stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a while, looking at himself and feeling wholly inadequate. He rested his head against the cool glass for another few seconds before returning triumphant to the kitchen and offering the bottle to Vincent.

Taking the bottle from Cid with a muttered "Thank you", Vincent shook out four and swallowed them, chasing it with some of the water he had left in his bottle. He looked soberly at Cid and asked, "So…now what?"

Cid shrugged. "We chase our tails around th'room s'more an' butt heads again? We seem t'be good at that." He looked back at Vincent, wondering about Lucrecia. He wanted to know…but he wasn't sure that he really wanted to know. "Will you…tell me about Lucrecia?" Maybe if he knew, he would better be able to judge when to mention her and when to leave her well out of the conversation.

Vincent nodded, absently playing with the nearly-empty bottle of water in front of him. "I see no reason not to tell you about her." He sighed heavily. "She was my wife. From another time, another life." He gave a small, sad laugh. "Oh, how I _loved_ her," he said on another sigh. "She was a scientist. We met in the Academy. She was…" he paused and looked at the ceiling; a small dreamy smile graced his lips. "Energetic, and laughed easily. She was always sharing her newest discoveries with me, even when half of the time I didn't know _what_ she was talking about. Her enthusiasm was infectious though, and I loved to listen to her voice, even when she rambled for hours. She had long brown hair that she always wore up in a thick tail, even though I would pester her to wear it down. When she looked at me her brown eyes would light up. She would say, "There you are, Vincent! You won't believe what happened to me today!" As she wrapped her arms around my waist, and I would say, "Oh, but I'm sure you're going to tell me, aren't you?" Every time. We would walk and talk for hours. Sometimes we would travel out of Midgar and have a picnic in the fields near Kalm, lying together under an enormous tree, her head on my stomach, and we would watch the clouds and talk absolute nonsense." He paused and looked back down at his water bottle, twirling it slowly in between his fingers. "I had never been in a relationship before, never even really spoken to a _girl_ before, and I was _terrified _when she came right up and started talking to me as if we had been friends for years. I stuttered and stumbled all over my words and she just giggled and asked me to dinner. We were near inseparable after that. There is not a day that goes by that I do not miss her in some way, shape or form."

Cid grinned. Though he was not sure he would have gotten along with the woman, he could see why Vincent had loved her. She was exactly the kind of person Vincent needed. She was, but Cid was not. Though, to be honest, he couldn't pinpoint precisely which qualities –besides the physical and intellectual…that was it. The intellectual. Vincent needed someone smart, someone with whom he could have intelligent conversations. Cid didn't think he'd ever be up to Vincent's standards in that regard. But he could ramble, and he could talk utter nonsense, and he could come on too strongly and be too forward and persist in pursuing Vincent and hell, he'd even dye his hair brown and grow it out, if that would help…no, he wouldn't. He was not going to attempt to replace Lucrecia.

That was disrespectful to them all, and he was ashamed for even considering it. "I'm sorry that you have to miss her, Vincent. I really am," he said, and he _was_ sorry. Vincent deserved happiness so much. "Let's go laugh fer a little while. We've had enough o' the sad stuff t'day," he said, standing. "I'll make us some popcorn an' we'll find a movie, an' maybe durin' th'commercials you c'n tell me s'more about 'er."

Vincent nodded and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so. While Cid went into the kitchen to begin making popcorn, he lay down on the couch, pushing himself back into the cushions and dragging the afghan over his bare chest and shoulders. He hoped the aspirin would kick in soon.

That didn't feel like they were going to be laughing any time soon. And Cid had to admit that he was a little annoyed that Vincent had taken up the entire couch, but he didn't mind sitting on the floor. He could have taken a chair, but neither of them were close enough for popcorn-sharing. He took his seat with the big bowl of popcorn and an orange soda for each of them. He wasn't sure how long they'd been in the fridge, but they were there, and didn't seem to be in bad shape. Luckily, he wouldn't have to flip channels too much. Only three of them ever showed what he considered to be real movies, and he knew their numbers.

The first one was some sappy romance, and it lowered his opinion of the channel greatly. The second, rather ironically, claimed that it told the story of a cop and a big-time mobster whose lives were intertwined somehow. Cid considered just turning off the set. The last was almost just as bad as the others; something about a man-eating shark or some such, but it was just starting, so he left it. "Looks like another bad horror movie," he sighed, taking a handful of popcorn before offering the bowl to Vincent.

"Mm," Vincent murmured, taking a couple of popped kernels and nibbling on them. There was a throbbing at his temples that felt suspiciously like a pulse, and he wasn't feeling terribly enthusiastic about eating any more, but he took some to be polite. What a mess things had turned out to be. He had felt the entire range of the spectrum in regards to emotions, and he didn't know _where_ he stood now. At the moment it was just easier to lie there, and stare at the flickering screen with the credits popping up to the background of some low, ominous music. Vincent blinked slowly, bringing one arm up behind his head, intrigued by the simple music and scene of the ocean. He'd like to visit the ocean actually. The only time he had ever seen the large body of water it had been from a wharf in a harbor or from high up in one of his helos on his way to some meeting or other. The screen showed what had to be the point of view of said man-eating shark as it swam through an underwater forest of seaweed and coral, and Vincent felt himself grow somewhat interested in what the movie might bring in the way of mindless entertainment. Right now, _anything_ was better than the alternative.


	32. Chapter 32

Guys, sorry we're so slow! I've been in the process of moving around again, and we decided to rework a huge portion of the story so that it better filled reader requests and advanced the plot. Thanks for being patient!

Also, ShadowCasper, we _are_ working on that fic you requested. ;) It's gonna be a bit more involved than we thought at first.

* * *

Reaching behind his head was not working out well for Cid. His shoulder, already aching, threatened to start throbbing. He set the bowl precariously on the edge of the sofa and stood, careful to keep from blocking Vincent's view of the screen. He moved to the end of the couch that held Vincent's feet and prodded, prompting Vincent to make an annoyed sort of grunt and, eventually, scoot toward the edge and lean up to allow Cid in beside him. Once settled, Cid took his share of the afghan, wrapped his hand around the bowl or popcorn, and relaxed, heaving a shaky sigh of relief. This was how it was supposed to be, only without the grumbling.

Cid kissed the column of Vincent's neck, then scooted upward a bit more so the other man's head rested approximately in the vicinity of Cid's chest when Cid twisted his torso to lie more on his back than his still-sore side. "Think maybe I seen this one before," he said when the movie faded into a commercial break. "Liked it enough, I reckon."

Vincent was stunned into irritated silence by the most awkward shifting and finagling of positions. Twice he was almost shoved off of the couch and onto his ass, and then he had to persistently tug on the afghan until it was evenly dispersed between them. However once Cid had gotten himself comfortable, Vincent found that he was too, resting in between Cid's thick thighs with his head on the man's chest. He grumbled a little bit more under his breath, further irritated by the fact that this whole maneuver had taken the first several minutes of the movie. But in the end the pleasant heat they both were generating was enough to make him relax again, and gradually his headache began to fade and his eyelids drooped lazily. "Really," he murmured. "I have not seen it." He listened through another commercial before he tilted his head back and to the side to look at Cid peripherally. "Have you ever been to the ocean?" He asked abruptly.

"Nah. Me, I don't think I'd know what t'do with that much water. I think I'd like t'see it, though, just once. Prob'ly be too chicken t'go in." He grinned and placed a hand on Vincent's hip while the other hand went behind his head, much like the way Vincent had initially been resting. "But maybe I wouldn't be if you went with me." Cid had expected the movie to be on again by this point. Commercial breaks during movies were always so ridiculously long…

"Hn," Vincent snorted softly as the movie came back on, and fell silent once again. The plot was contrived and predictable: small isolated island community, so naturally the whole "man-eating shark" problem was conveniently contained; an ignorant government in denial in the face of losing economic assets, and finally the hero predictably being ignored and labeled 'over-reactive and foolish', because let's face it folks, you wouldn't have a movie if everyone listened to reason in the first place! He and Cid munched on the popcorn, quietly absorbed in the slow unraveling of the tiny community as more people (and more food for the shark) moved onto the island.

When a commercial break came on, Vincent stretched with a contented grunt, and wriggled a bit to get more comfortable as well as get his blood flowing again. He sighed softly. "While overall not terribly original, it has a certain appeal doesn't it?" he said, indicating the movie. "I can certainly see why one might be afraid to go into the water after seeing this movie." The hand that Cid had placed on his hip towards the beginning of the movie had crept up and over until the cop was tracing small circles and figure-eights on his chest, and twice those blunt but nimble fingers had found his nipple, which caused Vincent's attention to shift abruptly from the movie to his chest. Now Cid's hand was still again, a warm weight over his heart that he found rather pleasing. "Perhaps this movie is where your hesitance to go in the water came from?" he teased lightly.

Cid had found it was very difficult to focus on the movie while Vincent was lying on him. He'd spent more time staring at the top of Vincent's head than he had watching the on-screen "terror." And, quite honestly, he'd looked at Vincent's chest more than his head, and watched his hand more than he'd stared at Vincent's chest, and- well, let it suffice to say that he had seen only a few minutes of the movie, and then had usually only looked because Vincent had pointed something out. He did hear the question, though, and the hand on Vincent's chest idly rubbed the flesh beneath it. "Well, I dunno. I reckon it's just 'cause I've never really been around lots o' water b'fore. Never would go swimmin' at th'pool. Was scared it was gonna have jellyfish, 'cause I'd seen some show on them. Creepy fuckers, them things." Cid shuddered at the thought, remembering horrid tentacles and painful poison and deceptively beautiful colors. "Yeah, I reckon it's the jellies, not th'sharks," he said, and laughed. "Though I don't think I'd wanna run inta one o' them either. But if one attacked ya, I'd fight it off for ya." He winked and grinned although he knew Vincent could not see it, and his hand stilled again as he kissed the side of Vincent's head.

An eyebrow rose at that. "Jellyfish?" Vincent asked, mildly incredulous. He chuckled and shook his head. "If I ever needed you to save me from a _jellyfish_, then I would be in bad shape indeed." Before Cid could reply the movie came back on, and they fell silent again. He snorted at the point in the movie when the reward was offered for the "man-eating shark", and laughed derisively when he saw men out in _rowboats_ throwing over large chunks of bloody meat. He did however nod in approval when the "shark expert" was brought in. That was something he would have done, but of course no one listened to the "expert." At the commercial break after the introduction of one rough-looking, rough-talking captain of a somewhat decrepit fishing trawler, Vincent said with a little snicker, "Now _he_ reminds me a little of you, Cid. I imagine you two would get along quite famously." He had to force himself to focus on the movie at this point as Cid's hand had begun playing with the waistband of his borrowed sleep pants, and quite on their own, his legs had parted a little in unconscious invitation. _This is the most tedious movie I have ever watched_, Vincent thought wryly.

He wanted to. He really, really wanted to reach in and just feel, maybe massage Vincent to hardness and then to orgasm, smell him sweating, hear him panting, and feel him writhing as Cid held him…he had to force his hand away, and he hoped the movement was at least somewhat less jerky than it seemed to him. He brought it back to rest over Vincent's heart again, noticing the firm muscle that hid just under the skin as his hand moved up Vincent's body. The paler man was deceptively skinny from far away, but here Cid could feel the latent strength that appealed to him so much. He sighed and settled back into the couch, arm heavy around Vincent.

Vincent murmured something unintelligible before picking up Cid's hand and linking their fingers. Now that his headache was gone, he felt lighter, calmer and as a result this intimacy with Cid was soothing. Gone was that boiling hatred, and sickening confusion. In their place was only a strange, deep yearning. And were it not for the easy peace he felt right now that pushed all other malevolent thoughts away, he might of wondered and been extraordinarily suspicious of the nature of those dark and poisonous feelings. Movie mostly forgotten, Vincent ended up in thought as he lay on Cid's chest. He was so warm, and once all the shifting and situating had been accomplished he found he was just as comfortable. Cid's chest was a solid expanse under his head and he was soon lulled into a warm stupor by the slow rise and fall of it as Cid breathed. He was ashamed and embarrassed by his behavior earlier; ashamed that he would even stoop so low as to put Cid into the same category as Rufus, because Cid would never, ever hurt him like that. He knew it and still he had panicked. Panicked and fainted. He sighed. They had already been intimate, in several different ways, had already had sex and still he was so hesitant. He wished he could give Cid what he wanted. Hell his body already responded to Cid's touch, seemed to crave it, why was his brain so reluctant to follow?

Cid sighed again and closed his eyes, enjoying Vincent's weight against him. When the movie returned from the commercial break, Cid's eyes opened again to watch it. He wasn't really watching, though; he cared much more about the warmth and peace he was feeling. If he could have this every day… well, if he could have this every day, then he would probably never do anything else. "Sometimes I wonder if y're even good fer me, Valentine," he grumbled affectionately, squeezing the fingers that were holding his own.

Vincent grinned wryly. "That's the thing with most obsessions, Cid. They're _not_ good for you, and by the time you realize this, you're too addicted and can't stop anyway." He'd tried to put distance between them, tried to make Cid give him up, even tried to push the man away, several times, but they always ended up together again. Fate, it would seem, had a very sick sense of humor.

Cid grunted. "Well, it wasn't fer lack o' tryin'." He closed his eyes again, listening to the movie's loud sounds- clearly there was some sort of climactic action going on now, likely something to do with the damned shark. "Would y'really wanna visit the ocean," he asked, nose wrinkling at the thought.

"Yeah," Vincent breathed. "There's something beautiful about it; beautiful and powerful." He resituated his head so that he could look up at Cid out of the corner of his eye. "You don't sound very thrilled with the idea though."

He chuckled. "Guess I just don't see the appeal. I mean, I'd like t'see it, but I dunno about all that swimmin' an' whatnot." Smiling, he opened his eyes in time to catch Vincent looking at him. "'Sides, I got somethin' beautiful an' powerful right here, so I don't need t'go nowhere."

Vincent snorted. "Right." He fell silent then, movie completely forgotten as he studied the slightly dingy curtains at the far end of the living room. He reached down with his free hand and scratched his thigh before lifting his leg to rest along the back of the couch.

Cid raised an eyebrow. "Y'don't think so?" he asked, then watched longingly as that leg stretched and fell against the backrest. He wanted- Well, that didn't matter. "I think th'couch'd be very offended t'know that y'don't think it's beautiful an' powerful," Cid said seriously. "Fact, I wouldn't be s'prised if'n it just dumps ya right off. Like so," he continued, abruptly turning his body so that Vincent was in danger of falling off the couch.

With a startled gasp, Vincent's arms flew out to grab onto Cid as the other went down towards the ground as though to keep himself from falling as he suddenly tipped precariously. He was not amused, and after a bit of wriggling around, not to mention a well-placed elbow to a gut –unintentionally of course, he maneuvered himself onto his hands and knees to glare down at Cid. His leaner frame fit perfectly in between Cid's legs, but that went unnoticed in favor of his lack of amusement. By this point his hair was beginning to come out of its braid and strands were getting into his face while the tail had snuck over his shoulder and was tickling him, which only added to his minor irritation. Blowing a puff of air out of the side of his mouth in an attempt to get some hair out of his eye, he said in a grumbled huff, "Real cute, Highwind…"

As soon as he got his breath back from the blow to his stomach, Cid laughed and lifted a hand to push back the hair Vincent was fighting. "Glad y'think so," he drawled, unraveling the braid the rest of the way so that Vincent's hair fell onto both of them. "I like ya like that best," he whispered, gaze warm on Vincent's face. "Y'look most like mine when y're like that."

Vincent shivered. Cid's reply should have insulted him, but instead it called forth a completely physical reaction. His stare remained fierce, but his exhalation came out in a little sudden puff of air as gooseflesh rose up on his arms and shoulders and his nipples pebbled. How did Cid do that to him? Every fucking time, and at the most unexpected moments… Cid had called him 'mine'. Vincent should have been outraged at being called a possession, but instead he found himself turned on by that. The feeling of belonging to someone, not as a thing, but as a person, made him feel warm and wanted. So instead of snapping at Cid, he just looked down into Cid's blue eyes and open, honest face. His gaze missed nothing; from the slowly fading bruise around one eye, down a nose that probably had been broken at least once in the man's life, down to Cid's thin lips and he licked his own. Before he knew what he was doing, Vincent was lowering his face, slowly, hesitantly until his lips brushed against Cid's and he shivered again.

Brow furrowing as he was kissed, Cid pressed into the touch while making a questioning sound. His hands slid down so his arms could rest around Vincent's waist, and he sighed when he felt the other man's body shudder. Cid's eyes closed, and he opened his mouth, yielding to Vincent, who seemed to need this. Cid gave a shudder of his own at the thought of being able to arouse those feelings in a man like Vincent. Slowly, one of his hands slid up the other man's back, gentle and mindful of the healing wounds as it moved. That hand rested, flat, between Vincent's shoulder blades. The other lay loosely against the other man's waist, fingers digging in a bit as it barely held his heavy arm off the surface of the couch. He let it slip only to raise it to drape over the other man's hips. He and Vincent really did fit together perfectly, as both Cid's body and mind noticed. Another soft sigh left him, and his eyes opened in order to seek out Vincent's red ones.

Vincent took his time ending the kiss, not allowing himself to think about the actions that had led up to this moment and the nervousness he had felt. When he pulled back he had lowered himself down onto Cid's body carefully and he lay now, propped up on his elbows, his fingers playing with the hair his hands could reach. "Why do you fight so hard for me? Why, when you know how damaged I am? How difficult I find returning any kind of affection?" He touched Cid's face lightly. "Why do you let me keep hurting you?" He asked softly, more to himself than to Cid.

"B'cause," Cid whispered in reply, "my heart knows y're worth it, even durin' the times when m'head tells me I oughta give up." He left one hand on Vincent's back and used the other to trace his lips. "My heart knows it needs yours." He loved Vincent, loved him so much, and he knew he would never be able to answer if someone asked him why he did. "And my body is willin' t'go without that affection if it means I get t'keep that heart."

Vincent didn't know what to say to that. How did Cid always know the right things to say, the words that could smash through any and all walls he could put up? His mouth worked for a moment longer before he finally gave up trying to find the right words in which to reply and, deeply moved, he kissed Cid again.


	33. Chapter 33

:O What's this? A double post? Consider it sucking up for missing so many post dates in the recent past. ^^

* * *

They rested there together longer than Cid bothered to note, occasionally kissing, always touching. Whatever unhappy feelings they had created earlier in the day seemed to have gone, and for that, Cid was very grateful. His body was sore; Vincent's weight, slight though it was compared to what it should have been, did not help in the healing of his ribs or the fading of the bruises. He could never complain about this, though, so he was content to remain as he was until his stomach rumbled. "Guess that means dinner oughta happen sometime soon," he offered quietly, knowing there was little food in the house. "I think I'mma go take a shower 'r somethin', an' then I c'n go run somewhere an' get us food. There ain't nothin' in the house."

Vincent frowned as he looked up and around from where his head had rested on Cid's bare chest. The cheek that had lain on Cid was warm and pink and his hair was fuzzed out a little. He looked around for a clock but didn't see one so he looked at the slightly parted curtains instead and noticed that the light coming into the room from between them was the golden red of sunset. He blinked in surprise. "Have we really been laying on the couch all day?" He asked in disbelief. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so completely and utterly unproductive in his life. No, he could. He and Lucrecia had spent more than one day just lazing around and doing nothing but talking and cuddling. He frowned at the realization. So what did it mean that he could do this with Cid? Nothing. It meant nothing. Didn't it? Slowly and carefully he sat up and tried to run a hand through his hair but winced when he encountered a snarl. Giving that up as a lost cause without a proper brush he settled for rubbing his face with both hands instead. Now that Cid mentioned it, it had been a long time since that sandwich he had eaten and popcorn wasn't going to cut it. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled suggestively. "I think that might be a good idea," he conceded. "What do you have in mind?"

Cid shrugged, easing the last pieces of himself from under Vincent as the other man sat up. "I dunno. I don't really do much fancy eatin'," he pointed out. "And, uh, y'll hafta pay this time, prob'ly. Consider it a date." He grinned and pulled Vincent's hands away from his face so he could press a kiss to the cheek that hadn't been squashed against Cid for the past…several hours. Had they really spent several hours together that way? The thought of it warmed Cid's heart. "I got a comb you c'n use if y'wet it, but I ain't got no use fer a brush," he offered, having noticed Vincent's hair woes. "Could always shower with me," he added, tossing a suggestive glance in Vincent's direction as he stood. "Take care o' yer hair as well as the boredom y'll no doubt face without me in th'room."

Vincent smiled wryly. "While your offer is tempting, I only just got my hair dry from the last shower. You go on ahead and I'll get some money. As for what…" he fell silent as he thought about his options. "How do you feel about Wutainese? If I remember correctly, there is a small authentic restaurant not too far from here that does carryout, and it's within easy walking distance."

"Temptin', is it? Huh." That was nice to hear. Nice enough, in fact, to inflate Cid's ego to the point that the smile on his face immediately stretched from ear to ear, only to shrink again as the action pulled at the split in his lip. "Guess I'll hafta make it again sometime, once I've figured out how t'sweeten it so's y'can't refuse." He thought for a moment and could find nothing wrong with Vincent's suggestion on dinner, so he nodded and said, "Sounds good t'me. You find me directions an' call in the order an' I'll go pick it up once I'm done in there."

Cid's smile was probably one of the most beautiful things Vincent had ever seen in his life and he found himself grinning back at Cid. "I look forward to that challenge, Mr. Highwind, but…" he cocked his head and blinked at the man. "… what do you want me to order?" He chuckled and his grin turned impish. "If you don't give me an idea I might order you sea slug. It's a delicacy you know."

Cid made a face. "Uh…m'sure it's a real treat an' all, but I'm gonna hafta pass on the slug. I don't do…y'know, seafood. Or things that sound like stuff yer better off steppin' on than eatin'." Actually, his aversion to several different foods left him a rather limited menu. "I dunno. Somethin' with chicken? Not spicy 'r sweet 'r undercooked. That'll work fer me." Essentially, something he could have cooked himself had he access to the ingredients. "If y'want me t'try somethin' else, just order it an' lie to me 'bout what it is," he advised, turning around. "I'll be right back."

Vincent huffed softly as Cid walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. That had _not_ been very helpful. He fished his phone out of his pocket and thought a moment about what Cid might like, tapping the closed phone against his chin. Finally he decided to go with _gai-zhi_ chicken, a lightly breaded meat best served with white rice and a sauce that was almost more like a light gravy. It was mild in spice, but rich in flavor. He flipped open his phone but froze when a voice spoke from directly behind him:

"_Why do you keep fighting me, Vincent?"_

What was this? Vincent's mouth worked soundlessly as the room suddenly grew cold and his vision darkened. Shaking, he sat down at the table and buried his face in his hands. Not now! He was _awake_, for the love of Holy!

"_Look at me when I'm speaking to you,"_ Sephiroth hissed, and Vincent shuddered as he felt a cold breath on his neck.

With a shuddering breath, he looked up and saw his tormentor for the first time in nearly four years. The man was wraith-like and transparent, but the power Sephiroth exuded was a tangible thing, overwhelming and awe-inspiring. He looked just as he had the last time Vincent had seen him; dressed in black, his long silver hair drifting around him as though caught in some breeze that only he could feel. Even so ghost-like, his skin was luminous and pearlescent, and his acid-green eyes with their twisted, abnormal pupils seemed to glow and pinned him in place causing him to shiver with dread. So much had changed since the truth was uncovered. No longer allies in a common cause, they had become adversaries… no, Sephiroth had become the master, and he the puppet. Only now, the doll was fighting its master.

"I don't." Vincent whispered, groaning softly as the familiar bone-chilling cold invaded his body once again despite the warmth of the apartment.

"_Oh, but you do,"_ Sephiroth said dangerously leaning over the table towards him, and Vincent jumped when the other man touched the table as a jolt of static-like electricity shot up his arms almost painfully.

"I don't understand-" Vincent tried, but was silenced by Sephiroth's growl.

"_Do you expect me to believe that? You are weak Vincent! Gullible, selfish, too easily manipulated. Don't forget your promise to me. Did I not warn you what would happen if you defied me?"_

"Yes," Vincent gasped, shivering as he averted his gaze, and Sephiroth snorted in disgust.

"_What must I do to make my point, Father?"_

"Don't call me that!" Vincent cried softly, eyes snapping back up to meet Sephiroth's in horror.

"_Why not? You did not complain in the Pens."_ Sephiroth purred, stepping up close so that he invaded Vincent's personal space.

"That was a long time ago. We were different then." Vincent was shaking now from the chill, his jaw chattering. He was so cold that his _teeth_ hurt! Sephiroth's presence was positively glacial.

"_Were we,"_ Sephiroth sneered, stepping back. He slowly began to fade. _"I warned you, Vincent, and you did not listen. Now it is too late. You shall reap what you sow, and then you will belong to me completely. Say goodbye to all that you love."_

"What do you mean?" Vincent whispered, staring at Sephiroth with rising panic. "Wait! Sephiroth, come back! Tell me what you meant!" But the man was gone, leaving behind only his silky, echoing laughter. Breathing shakily, Vincent's eyes darted around the room frantically as he tried to understand what Sephiroth meant. If the man could appear in the waking world, what other abilities did he have? Just how strong was he now? And what threat did he pose to Cid? The fear gripped him in an iron claw that threatened to choke him. The sound of water cutting off in the bathroom made him start violently and he opened his phone, quickly placing the call for food. After he closed the phone, he resumed his brooding. He must be on his guard if he was going to protect Cid. He shivered again with the cold of realization that the future just became even more uncertain.

Cid darted from the bathroom into his room with a towel wrapped around his waist- he'd forgotten to bring in clothes and didn't think Vincent would much appreciate him walking outside in a towel again after what had happened before. He dressed quickly in the first presentable things he found—so what if the jeans had a hole in the left knee? They still looked fine- and headed back toward the living room, shuddering at the chill he was sure hadn't been there when he'd left. "Got it called in?" he asked cheerfully, walking over to stand next to the other man.

"Mm," Vincent grunted in assent, frown still on his face. After a few more seconds of thought-chasing, he looked up at Cid. He blinked, momentarily speechless as he took in Cid's open face and happy expression. If he _lost_ Cid… the unfinished thought scared him to death as his mind took him back to that day in the warehouse when Cid had been shot and that possibility had been very real. He stood, phone in his fist. "Just give me a moment to get dressed and we can go," he said, beginning to head for the bedroom in which he had discarded his clothes. He couldn't let Cid go alone. Sephiroth had just proved that he could appear in this world, and the power the man had worn like a second skin had backed up that threat.

Cid's brow furrowed as he took in Vincent's expression, and then he shook his head at the words. "Uh-uh. You can't go. I mean, they already know y're here, but if we go off to a restaurant t'gether, y'think that won't make shit worse? Nope, you'd better stay here on th'off-chance that they think y'already left, if anybody worth notin' is still watchin'." Besides, they couldn't just waltz around Midgar hand-in-hand. Tseng would have a panic attack if he found out, and so would Vincent when he realized what they'd done. "You stay here 'n'set th'table 'r somethin'," he suggested, and his eyes brightened. "An' Laz left me with some stuff that might strike yer fancy a little more'n my dollar-store wine, f'ya wanna dig that out. Should go pretty nice w'dinner." He started to head for the door, but remembered that he needed money if he planned to buy food, so he turned around again. "Uh…I promise I'll bring back yer change, an' I'll pay ya back when I get a job, but…"

Vincent paused in his progress to the bedroom to turn around and look at Cid. "But what?" He asked, and then shook his head. "It doesn't matter Cid. I'll be careful and hang back, no one will even notice me. Believe it or not, especially given my rather… unique appearance, I've gotten good at being invisible." He hesitated a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. He didn't know just how much he could tell Cid, but… "Besides, I believe I'm the only one who can adequately protect you anyway." And it was the truth. If Sephiroth decided to come after Cid, then he was the only one who was equipped to anticipate and counter those moves.

"But y'll hafta pay this time, s'all. And no, y're not goin' out there." He paused in his tracks, frowning again. "Whaddaya mean, 'protect me'? I'm only goin' down th'street, Vincent." Cid started to laugh, but then noticed how serious the other man looked. "Protect me from what? An' whaddaya mean y're the only one? I'd say I c'n take care o' myself, but fer one, I ain't been doin' too good a job o' that, an' fer another…what th'hell do I need protectin' from?" he asked again, almost alarmed now by how seriously Vincent seemed to be taking this supposed threat, whatever it was.

Vincent looked down at his phone, still clenched in his closed fist. "I'm a powerful man, Cid, and powerful men have powerful enemies," he said softly before looking back up at Cid. "I wanted to try and keep you from their attention for as long as I could, but it would seem that at least one of them knows of you now." He neglected to mention that Sephiroth had known about Cid for quite a while, no need to worry the man any more than he already was after all. "And it's the worst one." He turned to face Cid fully and leveled his red stare on his lover. "I'm the only one who can protect you from him, so do not question me. His power is frightening, and I'll sacrifice my life to keep you safe." He turned back towards the bedroom. "Now, just give me a moment and I'll be right out."

Cid sighed. "No. I'm not lettin' you put yerself at risk fer me. Y'do that enough durin' yer every day. Please, Vincent, stay here." It would be easier just to let the other man accompany him, but Cid didn't like the idea of them being seen together, especially in such a clearly casual way. It wouldn't do either of them any good, but could harm them both immensely. "Think of it this way. I'm bein' watched from here t'ShinRa Tower. Anybody comes after me, th'people watchin'll be jumpin' on them b'fore I c'n s'much as bat an eye." It wasn't really much of a reassurance, but it was probably the best chance he had. "Look. This…enemy o' yers c'n only speculate as of now, right? Th'hell d'ya think he'll do if he sees us waltzin' around Midgar t'gether like a pair o', well, lovers?"

Vincent had stopped in the doorway of the bedroom when Cid spoke again. He calmly heard the man out before saying. "They can't protect you, Cid. Not my men or yours." He looked down and reached his free hand up trace the scars crisscrossing his chest. "Only I'm strong enough," he murmured, then spoke again more loudly, "I know it's dangerous to be seen together, an enormous risk for us both, but no one who can see us that short distance to the restaurant can even come close to this man…" he looked over his shoulder at Cid, "… who already knows about us."

Cid could feel the weariness on his own face as he responded, a bit more bitterly than he had intended, "Well, y'can't be here always. Eventually I gotta be on my own, an' I'll hafta run fer groceries an' go fer interviews an' meet up with Aerith. If y'can't be here fer those times, then I'm just as vulnerable then as I would be if I went to get food just now without ya. But y'know what? It ain't that big a deal. You wanna go, you c'n go. I only even offered 'cause I knew y'didn't wanna be seen around here right now."

No, no he couldn't. Cid was absolutely right. The only way he could keep an eye on Cid the way he wanted to, was if he brought Cid back to the Tower, and he couldn't justify that. Not to mention the apocalyptic shit that would hit the metaphorical fan if Rufus found him. That and it would make Cid miserable having to be hidden away like some embarrassing secret. But he was here now, and he could do this. He would just have to be very, very careful. He hesitated a moment longer before closing himself in the bedroom and slowly beginning to dress himself. He didn't want to call one of his men for a ride as that would attract too much attention, so he would have to sneak out a back door, or a service entrance, or something. Perhaps Cid had an extra trench coat he could borrow. No, that wouldn't do, it wouldn't fit properly. This really was a dumb idea, but the alternative was out of the question. Briefly, he contemplated just calling it an evening and having Tseng just pick him up and take him back to Shinra… but he didn't want to leave Cid. The thought of going back to his lonely, empty apartment alone in that steel prison was the only thing that seized his heart up worse than Sephiroth's threat. _Now let's examine that threat_, Vincent thought as he pulled his shirt on and began buttoning it. Would Sephiroth really do something to Cid right after giving that warning? Everything he knew about the silver-haired man suggested to him that Sephiroth would wait to do something when it would inflict the most pain, the most damage. And would it really hurt to let Cid do this? He could clearly see that being cooped up in this moderately small apartment was slowly driving the poor man crazy. With a shaky sigh, Vincent reached into this trouser pocket and withdrew his wallet. Pulling out a 100-gil note, he returned the wallet to its place and exited the room to pause just past the door. "I'm sorry, Cid," he said, and it was the hardest thing he had ever had to say and his voice was wooden. "I was being unreasonable. I'm sure you'll be fine if you wish to go. Here is some money, just don't… don't take long, and don't stop moving."

Cid had gotten even more annoyed as Vincent took his time in the back. Was he really going to make Cid stay here? It was on the tip of Cid's tongue to point out that if Vincent went for food, then Cid would be just as alone here, but he was done arguing. Vincent could do whatever he wanted. The other man walked back in his direction, and Cid blinked when Vincent apologized. He didn't like that tone of voice; it was eerily similar to the way Vincent had sounded when they had first started talking regularly. Cid didn't want that back, the distant and cold Vincent he'd tried so hard to warm. Rather than commenting, though, he stepped up to Vincent, took the money, placed a kiss to his cheek, and promised, "I'll be right back. Don't you worry 'bout me, sugar."

Vincent didn't respond to Cid's kiss, didn't even watch Cid as he grabbed his coat and left the apartment; just closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer to whatever god was listening that nothing would happen to the most important man in his life. Several minutes after Cid had pocketed the gil and left the apartment, and Vincent could move again, the first thing that struck him was how…quiet everything was. The apartment felt strange and empty, devoid of life and warmth, and it startled him. This was different than before when he had felt the pervading cold and hatred. Now it was sad and lonely. Was this what it felt like to love someone and have them leave you? It was a new feeling to Vincent, different from the permanence of death. Wrapping his arms about himself, he cast around for something to occupy his mind, to distract it from his nerves and the empty-feeling apartment. He didn't want to read, the silence was too oppressive for that, his mind too active with terrifying what-if's, and he was rather burned out on television, especially since he was unaccustomed to watching it in the first place.

Finally a soft gurgling caught his attention, and he followed the sound into the kitchen where he noticed the sink was draining way to slowly…and loudly, for his preference. And so it was that Vincent found something to occupy his mind and body. Electing to save his shirt the damage, he shrugged out of it, and draped it over a dining room chair. Next he wandered around, checking closets and drawers until he found an odd assortment of tools that he took back with him to the sink where he lay down and got to work.

- Elsewhere in Midgar -

His fingers drummed against the polished surface of his desk as he switched lines to take the incoming call- he had been waiting for this one. "What news?" he asked vaguely, lips twitching into a pained smile at the other's reaction to his abruptness.

"Sheesh, do ya have to be so straightforward all the time? You'll get wrinkles if you keep goin' like that, man."

"Fair."

The man on the other end of the line sighed. "Fine, fine. Valentine's still shacked up in there –literally-" he paused to snicker, and the other interrupted to prompt him yet again to pass on the relevant information."

"Fair."

In something of a whine, Zack answered, "Come ooon, at least acknowledge the genius of that pun." When the other only huffed softly, clearly impatient, the dark-haired man just shook his head and continued. "And Scarlet took a rather lengthy trip out of her office yesterday," he offered tantalizingly.

The blond man gave another sigh and rested his forehead in his free hand. "I swear, if you turn this into a comment on her digestive health, I-"

"Geez, calm down!" Zack laughed, holding up his own free hand in supplication. "I was just gonna say –and bear with me here- that she went way farther than the john."

The blond man's eye twitched, and he opened his mouth to verbally lash the younger man, but was struck dumb by the next hurriedly uttered words.

"I tailed her to the upper plate. Willing to bet I don't have to tell you who she was meeting with."

"Rhapsodos."

"Good boy," Zack crooned over the line, pleased with himself for managing to gather what information he had.

"She should have included me in that," the blond mused. "Unless our suspicions were correct?"

"Oh, I'd say they are, sir. I would definitely say that they are." Zack pushed away from the wall with a soft grunt. "Hey, listen- Highwind's on the move," he said quietly. "Dunno where the hell he thinks he's goin', but it's my job to find out, right? When I'm somewhere I can't be overheard, I'll fill you in on that little meeting, and I'll get back to you on Highwind if it's anything good."

"I don't think our respective definitions of 'good' exactly mesh, Fair," the blond warned, hand back on the desk and fingers drumming again. This was all going somewhere, and much more quickly than he'd anticipated. If he could only figure out where it was going, and when it would come together…

Zack just chuckled. "Noted. I'll save the juicy stuff for somebody who cares." With that, he ended the call as abruptly as his companion had started it and proceeded to follow Cid to the little Wutainese restaurant. And, after purchasing his own meal to go, also proceeded to follow him back at a leisurely pace.

He found the place quite easily, and it really wasn't very far away. That was good, because he had decided to go on foot rather than bother with a cab. Maybe he would take one on the way back to keep the food warm. All the way to the restaurant, he'd felt eyes on him, and they were on him again as he waited inside it. He reminded himself that it was a necessity that Scarlet think he was being followed, and that those watching him were on his side…whichever side that was.

As he stopped in the short line of people picking up their orders, he caught the eye of Zack Fair, who winked knowingly at him. Cid was a bit surprised at that, but he thought no more of it. The man at the counter promised that Cid's order would be the next up, so the blond waited patiently and toyed with the idea of getting a cab on what was left of the money. In the Midgar traffic, though, walking would probably be faster. The food was at the counter within two minutes, according to the clock on the wall, and Cid was concerned about the accuracy –and quality- of their meals, but a quick glance at each reminded him that he hadn't even bothered to ask what Vincent had ordered for either of them. He set back toward his apartment at a brisk pace, wondering if Zack would follow him or if their meeting had been a coincidence. He seriously doubted the latter, and knew that if Zack knew where Cid was, then so did Scarlet. That was an unnerving thought, and was enough to distract him from wondering about Vincent's so-called 'powerful enemy' who apparently planned to jump out of the shadows at Cid or something equally sinister.

He was chuckling by the time he got to his door, and opened it fully intending to announce his presence loudly. He noticed that Vincent didn't seem to be nearby, so he wandered into the kitchen instead, where he stopped to blink bemusedly at the shirtless man lying on his floor.

Vincent had heard Cid come into the apartment and with one last twist of the crescent wrench around the u-joint he scooted out from under the sink and peered anxiously up at the blond. "Did you run into any trouble? See anything suspicious?" He asked as he slid the crescent wrench back into the tool bag and began to slowly clean up his mess.

Eyebrow raised, Cid set the plates on the table and turned his head sideways. "Not 'til I got in here, no. What th'hell are ya doin' t'my sink, Valentine?" he asked, dropping to the floor as if to inspect Vincent's work. "Oh. Heh, thanks. Been meanin' t'unclog that, but things've been…well, pretty heavy lately, if not exactly busy." He grinned and ducked his head, placing a quick kiss on Vincent's lips before standing slowly and offering his hands to Vincent. "Don't worry about that. Just clean yerself up, an' I'll get the food set up b'fore it gets cold."

Reaching out and grabbing Cid's hands, he let Cid help him to his feet. Taking a moment to straighten his trousers, he looked down at the newly fixed sink and shrugged a shoulder in an attempt to appear nonchalant. He didn't think he was successful as his shrug was more of a twitch than an actual easy lift of the shoulder. "I needed something to occupy my mind and the annoying gurgle from the sink seemed like a good idea. I'll just be a moment." He didn't look at Cid while he talked, afraid that Cid would see how worried he had been and ducked around the blond as he made his way to the bathroom to wash his hands and arms.

Cid just blinked as Vincent headed past him, shaking his head. The man was probably the most confusing Cid had ever met, but that only made him more interesting. On the other hand, though, he seemed preoccupied now, as if he were still thinking about what he had been thinking about before Cid had left, which meant- had Vincent been _worrying _about him the whole time? Grinning, Cid nodded slowly and vowed never to mention to Vincent that had figured that out for himself.

Instead of following the other man as he normally would have, Cid finished putting away the things Vincent had removed from under the cabinet. He washed his hands when that was done and began pulling out plates, glasses, and utensils. Cid moved those to the living room because he knew Vincent wouldn't want to eat at the table, and then he came back for the to-go plates containing their food, also digging up the wine before carting that load to the coffee table. When he got there, he noticed that Vincent had also cleaned up the popcorn; he must have found the vacuum. Cid pushed the table a few more inches away from the couch and then sat on the floor between the two objects. Eating would be easier this way than it would have been had he tried to lean over from the couch.

Having had the foresight to shut the door behind him, Vincent took a moment to lean his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror over the sink after he washed his hands, not even noticing that his breathing had quickened. During the short time Cid had been gone, Vincent had only just barely managed to keep himself occupied enough to keep his mind off of Sephiroth's little "visit", but every bang, thump and footfall he had heard in the building around him had made him jump and once he had even managed to bang his head on the squirrely plumbing. What was wrong with him? He needed to relax. Cid was safe, his theory so far was proving to be a valid one so he just needed, to, relax. After a couple of deep, steadying breaths, he checked his appearance in the mirror and, finding it satisfactory, opened the door and rejoined Cid in the living room. The smell of Wutainese cooking was already filling the small apartment and until that moment he hadn't realized just how hungry he had gotten. The fact that Cid had taken a seat on the floor and had put the food on the low coffee table instead of the kitchen table didn't go unnoticed or unappreciated. Sitting down carefully, he gave Cid a small, grateful smile and said, "Smells good."

"It does," Cid agreed, gesturing to his right side, where Vincent's drink and plate were set out. "I don't actually know which one's mine, but I guessed it was this one," he said, pointing at the box sitting in front of him. "S'that right?" he asked, opening it so that Vincent would be able to see its contents when he came close enough. The meat inside it appeared to be chicken, and the smell was mild enough that Cid figured it was probably not for Vincent. "Oh, an' yer change is on th'table," he added. "Thanks again, fer dinner an' fer fixin' the sink."

"Yes, that would be yours," Vincent said taking a seat next to Cid after first picking up his wine glass and taking a sip. It was indeed a very good vintage. It wasn't perhaps the most ideal given the cuisine, a more bitter Wutaian beverage being more appropriate, but surprisingly it didn't taste too bad. "I thought you might like the gai-zhi chicken, given that you wished for something mild." He pulled the wu-xhong beef over in front of him, picked up a fork and gathered up a forkful. He looked back over at Cid and smiled a little stiffly –stiff considering he was still wound up tighter than a bed-spring- and said, "You're welcome, Cid." He placed the forkful into his mouth, chewing appreciatively. It was just as good as he remembered, the textures rich and the flavors authentic. He took a sip of the wine. No, not bad at all. Maybe he would be able to relax after all. His smile turned into a wry grin. "I'll be sure to send Mr. Deusericus my bill."


	34. Chapter 34

Look look look! It's almost on-schedule! 8D

* * *

~~ Back at the Shinra Tower ~~

Two days left, well one-and-a-half, really, until the end of ShinRa as they knew it. In a day and a half, a new king would take the throne. And the best part of this coup? No blood would be spilled, and it would be completely legal. That was the part that blew Reno away and simply re-affirmed to him his boss's genius. Valentine had amassed so much dirt on Shinra that there was absolutely no way the man's two-bit hack of a lawyer could get him clean. It was as if Vincent had been digging and collecting intelligence on the Shinra since day one when Rufus had had him sign his soul away on the dotted line, which of course he probably had. And then there were the few nice finishing touches that Reno, himself, had found. Those little discoveries had been what cemented his place in Vincent's ranks. That and unflinching loyalty… and working his skinny _ass_ off. But to know that Vincent didn't question him and trusted him as completely as a man in Vincent's position _could_ trust, had made it all worth it.

This was what Reno was thinking as he disassembled his new creation, what he called an EMR –because he didn't particularly enjoy using guns, preferring a more "hands on" approach- as he sat at a table in The Squat –so named because he kept saying he was going to 'cop a squat' in the lounge so often that everyone finally gave up and just called the lounge 'The Squat'. But there was something that he just couldn't figure out though as he switched his LED penlight to his mouth in order to free his hand to reach a pair of long, delicate forceps down into the tube of the EMR. During their little bang session about taking Shinra down, Vincent had been extremely vague with his instructions, and it wasn't until _after _that session that Vincent had sought them out one-on-one with more specific assignments.

Why had he done that when before they had all been included? They worked together as a more cohesive and lethal unit when they were all informed of the plan. So why the secrecy all of a sudden? It was almost as if Vincent didn't trust them, which just didn't make any sense to Reno, especially when Vincent had _told _them otherwise! Hell, he only knew this because he had gotten Rude to admit to Vincent having come to see him, but as far as his partner's "job", the man had stayed infuriatingly silent. His own job was simple: push a button when Vincent gave him the signal. That button would then anonymously send a zipped file of previously encoded and encrypted data to every newspaper in Midgar. It was Vincent's "insurance policy" against immediate retribution from Shinra, and once the press got wind of it, Rufus wouldn't even be able to take a shit without it being on the 6:00 news.

Still, considering his curious nature, it drove him nuts to know what the others had to do but have that curiosity denied. Repeated attempts to talk to Rude were like talking to a shy rock. He didn't dare open his cake-hole around Tseng, as the broody bastard told Vincent everything, and if he was going to have Vincent find out that he was pokin' his nose where it didn't belong he would prefer it came from his own mouth. And Verdot…? He shuddered. He didn't care to have his EMR shoved up his ass, spank you very much. The guy was about as cuddly as a tonberry and had the same affinity/obsession for sharp objects. _Creepy little bastards… creepy _big _bastard…_

"I don't like it," said the rock to the tonberry. They both knew better than to interrupt him when he was working on one of his toys.

"No one said you had to like it," said the tonberry back to the rock. Reno snickered. It was like the beginning of a bad joke, but he kept his ears wide open.

"He's changed, distracted, and it's putting us all in danger. It's putting the _business_ in danger," Rude growled.

"Vincent doesn't _get_ distracted," Verdot replied without even looking up from the weapons magazine he was reading. "It's all part of the plan."

"You have an awful lot of faith in him," Rude said, narrowing his eyes behind his shades. "Some might even call it a blind faith, and that kind of faith only gets the pious killed."

"Perhaps," Verdot answered, idly flipping a glossy page.

"It doesn't concern you that he might be getting a little _too _close to this cop?" Rude's voice was little more than a sneer.

"He's not," Verdot said firmly. "He's too smart for that. He knows what that would do to the business."

"So you say," Rude replied smugly.

"Who cares?" Reno said, not looking up from the circuitry of his EMR. Verdot looked up at him and Rude raised an eyebrow. Reno didn't care what the other two thought. They hadn't seen Vincent's eyes that one day. He shivered. He would never forget those dead, red eyes that seemed to stare right through him. He never wanted to see Vincent's eyes look like that again. "So what if he screws the cop, or plays cards with him, or they do each other's nails? If it makes the boss happy, what's the problem?"

"You're young, kid. You can't possibly understand the ramifications of that kind of relationship in the business we're in," Verdot said with alarming patience. So alarming in fact that Reno looked up at the scarred man sharply.

"Yeah, I'm young, but I ain't stupid, yo." Reno said, voice slipping into his street dialect in his agitation. "Th' boss knows what he has t'do, he knows his responsibilities, and he's smarter than th' lot of us put together, man." He looked at his partner. "I think he's more than earned a little bit of blind faith from us, don't'cha think, partner?"

"Huh," Rude snorted, crossing his arms.

Verdot took a moment to eye Reno then said quietly, "The bastard knows. Or at least he suspects, and if Vincent is as smart as you're convinced he is, then he must realize how foolish any kind of continued association with the cop is. Or did you not see what Rufus did to him last time."

Reno paled and swallowed hard. "I saw. But I still think it's worth the risk if it makes 'im happy."

"Kid, you got some hard lessons comin' your way if you keep thinkin' shit like that," Verdot said dangerously.

"Leave him alone," Rude growled again, taking a threatening step toward Verdot.

Verdot turned his cold eyes on Rude. "Y'know, you've been acting kinda squirrely ever since Vincent made the decision to part ways."

Rude narrowed his eyes and opened to mouth to reply when a soft voice from the doorway said, "You would do well to watch what you say, Verdot."

Three heads turned in unison to see Tseng standing just inside the door, half of his unreadable face hidden by shadows and his arms crossed over his chest. "Regardless of your own _personal _feelings on Vincent's _private _affairs, the last thing he needs right now is the three of you at each others' throats."

The hostility coming off of Verdot made Reno twitch as the scarred man calmly closed his magazine and replaced it on the end table. He stood, straightened his jacket, and walked to the door without a word. Before Verdot could exit, Tseng stopped him with a murmured, "You said you'd die for him." He didn't look at Verdot and Verdot didn't look at Tseng, although the taller man practically vibrated with aggression. "I'm going to see that you remember you said that."

"You're welcome to try, Wutainese," Verdot hissed and crashed his shoulder against Tseng's on his way out.

Tseng absorbed the blow and still refrained from looking at Verdot, a little smile on his face. Next he looked up and over at Reno. "Can I see you a minute, Reno? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Reno glanced at Rude, who stared blankly back at him, and then nodded and stood. He approached Tseng. "Sure, what's it about?"

"Come with me, please. This needs to be said in private." He leveled a long stare at Rude, then turned and followed Reno out, shutting the door behind him.

Rude sat alone in the The Squat for several minutes before he took out his cell phone and dialed a number.

~~ Back in Cid's Apartment ~~

"—and then he says, 'What th'hell're you talkin' about, Highwind? _My _wife's the one with the mustache!' an' then 'is wife –he didn't notice she w's standin' there, o' course- she turns aroun' an' fixes 'im w'this _look_, an' 'is mouth drops open when 'e sees, an' then 'e- hell, Vincent, 'e fuckin' bolts 'cause 'e knows 'e's in for it!" Cid finished, laughing and tipping back a little to relax against the couch. "That w's prob'ly one of our finest moments," he said fondly, sighing a little. "Lazard never was much of a prankster, but I c'd talk 'im inta things now an' again."

Leaning forward again to sip more of his wine, Cid sighed. "Not that I do much o' that anymore. Hell, s'been years since I tried t'pull a joke on anybody. They go wrong too damned often when y're old enough t'notice." He turned his head in Vincent's direction. "Reckon you were always too much of a good boy t'try anything like that, huh?"

Vincent had finally relaxed and was sitting nestled well into the cushions of the old couch, silently sipping his wine as he listened to Cid's stories of his younger years. When Cid had mentioned Lazard, his ears had perked up and he had watched Cid intently as the man spoke, but when he realized that Cid was only recounting past –slightly embarrassing- escapades, he slowly relaxed and let his eyes droop a little. It was nice hearing Cid talk about himself so openly for once, and he was quite content to just sit and listen. Cid, despite the unfair and sadistic little twists life had thrown at him, had managed to live and find some good times. Oh, how different their early lives had been! Cid had been forced to grow up too fast in order to survive while he, Vincent, had lived an early life of privilege by comparison. His respect for Cid rose.

At Cid's question Vincent raised an eyebrow and regarded his slightly inebriated companion. "Largely, and if left to my own devices, then yes, I was. But Tseng…" he sighed and took another sip of wine. "Tseng always managed to land me in a world of trouble. I lost track of how many times I've had my backside tanned as a child." He couldn't hide the wistful little smile at the memories.

Cid's initial response, which he quickly bit back, was an indignant disapproval of the tanning of Vincent's backside. Instead, he replied, "Naw. That can't be right." Shaking his head, Cid elaborated: "Tseng ain't got a sense a humor. Y'must be thinkin' o' somebody else."

Vincent blinked slowly at Cid a moment. "Oh right, it was Tseng's brother, Fong. Yes, always getting me into trouble Fong was…" He replied with a nod.

"See?" Cid asked excitedly, tapping at Vincent's shoulder. "I knew it. S'all right, though. We all ferget things sometimes," he consoled, tapping turning into a soothing rubbing motion instead. "I won't tell 'im."

Vincent sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. _Really? _he thought. "I think you're done tonight, Cid. Just water for you now." He _was_ cute, though. There was a kind of boyish innocence that was endearing, which was probably why Vincent didn't bang his head into the wall.

Cid frowned. Vincent was making his exasperated face. That wasn't very nice. Neither was telling Cid what he could and couldn't have, in his own house of all places! But Vincent made up for both of those by being Vincent. Vincent was warm and sometimes even snuggly, and Cid figured that he should probably listen, because Vincent could also be a little bit scary. "'Kay," he sighed, and then quite nearly launched himself against the other man, resting his head on Vincent's shoulder. "Will y'tell me a story, then? A good one."

Cid's sudden near-assault had startled Vincent, making him raise the arm closest to Cid as though ward the man off, but as Cid appeared to snuggle down, he gradually relaxed. Re-crossing his legs the other way, he propped the arm that was behind Cid up against the back of the couch so that he could absently play with the man's soft hair with that hand. Taking a sip of wine he rested the hand holding the wine glass on his knee while he shuttered his eyes and sifted through old memories of the time when he and Tseng were young. "This is a story about two boys. One boy was quiet and shy, a bookworm who was happier studying than out doing things that other boys his age did. And the other boy was a little older, but was active and daring and was always getting into something, a bit of a known rascal, actually." He took another sip of his wine, then returned it to his knee. The other hand kept fingering Cid's hair. "One day, on their way home from school, the older boy said to the younger that he wanted to take the "long way" home from school through the market. So the younger agreed and as they wove through the market crowd the older boy disappeared for a moment only to reappear and slip something into the younger boy's pocket. He held his finger to his lips in a wordless gesture to keep quiet, which the younger agreed to do, but was horribly confused. Several moments later they were both grabbed they their ears and come to find out the older boy had stolen two rice cakes and had stuck them in the younger boy's pocket. Needless to say parents were informed."

"S'not a good story," Cid complained, closing his eyes as the fingers worked through his hair. "Stealin's bad. I did a lot o' that." Plus, Cid had a feeling that that day hadn't ended very well for those two boys. "W're they hungry?" he asked suddenly, turning his head up to Vincent and opening his eyes. "S'that why 'e did it?"

Vincent smiled wryly. "At the time, perhaps he was, and he just wanted to get himself and his friend a snack." He gave a gentle tug on Cid's hair. "If it makes you feel any better, the older boy tried to take all the blame. And it was a good story. They both learned a very valuable lesson that day."

"Mm," Cid said doubtfully by way of a reply, frowning again as Vincent tugged at his hair. He liked the petting better, so he snuggled a bit closer to Vincent, hoping that it would start again. He still didn't think it was a good story, but he didn't want to insult Vincent by saying so. Instead, he asked, "Did they die?"

Looking momentarily surprised, Vincent chuckled, making Cid bob a little with the movement. "No, but I'm sure the older boy was wishing he had. He was stuck on garbage duty helping one of the fisherman dispose of the guts and unusable parts of the fish he had cleaned and gutted from the catch that day for the next month. The younger boy didn't escape punishment either, but his involved hand copying some of his father's books for the same length of time. But both were quite miserable I can assure you. The younger boy swore his hand was cramped permanently and the older boy smelled like fish for months following his 'punishment'!" At that, he chuckled again.

"I don't like writin'," Cid commented, eyes drooping a little. "Y're not drunk," he said morosely, picking his head up again and fixing Vincent with an accusing stare. "Not s'posed'a let me drink s'much alone, y'know." That said, he was more than a little tempted to reach for the glass that was still on Vincent's knee. "Y'sure I hafta have only water?"

"Yes," Vincent laughed. "And you're not drinking alone. Besides one of us needs to have his wits about him." He didn't say, however, that the reason he had held himself back was so he could defend Cid if Sephiroth chose that moment to do something, even though he strongly doubted that would happen. If Sephiroth hadn't hit Cid while Cid was alone when he went for food then the odds of him going for Cid now were negligible. "And if you kept going, Cid Highwind, you would _not_ be a happy camper in the morning, and an ouchy Cid means a sad Vincent, so, only water," he said mock-sternly.

Quite frankly, Cid wasn't going to be a happy camper in the morning anyway. He doubted that a hangover would make things worse. In fact, it would probably help take his mind off the fact that Vincent was gone, but the other man was probably right, overall. He made a face at the last part, though. "I ain't that far gone, Valentine," he said, a scowl in his voice even though a smile was twitching into shape. "You c'n use big boy words. M'just all warm an' don't feel s'much like thinkin', y'know?" he informed him, sitting up straight again even though he craved the warmth of Vincent's body. "C'n I have a kiss if I promise?"

Vincent rolled his eyes. He couldn't help it. "Trading for kisses again, Highwind?" He said, but his voice was warm and lightly teasing. "Very well. And I'm sorry, for lapsing from my 'big boy' words. Too many times having to deal with Reno when too much fun with booze was had."

Cid shrugged, grinning. "Well, it worked out for me last time, didn't it? I like kissin' you," he said, moving closer to nuzzle at Vincent's ear hesitantly. He made no response to the rest except to snicker a little, far too concerned with being near Vincent to care about Reno stories, though he was sure there were some very good ones, given the kid's personality. "So?" he whispered. "That a fair trade, y'think?"

This time, just like damned near _every_ time Cid got close to him, Vincent felt a little thrill shiver up his spine and down his limbs. He turned his head toward Cid so their cheeks rested more fully together. His breath hitched in his throat a little and something fluttered in his stomach and he only _just_ managed to keep from spilling his wine. When Cid shifted against him again, he pulled back and blinked at him. "Cid, you're giving me a rug burn."

Cid frowned and pulled away. Perhaps he was a bit further gone than he'd claimed after all. "Uh. What?" he asked, confused and curious, and also more than a little put out that Vincent had managed to make him move so far away. "Oh," he said, finally catching on and bringing a hand up to his face sheepishly. "Yeah, it's, uh…it's been a couple days since I've bothered. I don't usually let it get outta control like this. Don't like havin' hair stickin' out ev'ry which way." Thinking for a moment, he continued, "Would y'like t'get rid of it for me? I'll be damned if I let ya leave with gettin' me another kiss, an' there ain't no sense in scratchin' ya up f'I c'n avoid it."

Vincent chuckled. "It's all right, Cid. A little pain lets you know you're alive, but I think I prefer you smooth." He ended in a whisper, reaching out and running the pads of his fingers over Cid's cheek, his red eyes searching blue and travelling to Cid's lips as he envisioned another kiss. His lips twitched. "To be honest, I've never had to shave, so I'm not sure exactly how to do it." He tsked as he took Cid's chin in between forefinger and thumb and turned it a little to the side. "But you _are_ getting furry."

Cid poked Vincent's shoulder hard. "Lucky bastard. I can't get it t'work for me either way. Never grows a decent beard, but it won't go away either. An' y'll do fine. Y'got steady hands an' good eyes. 'Sides, y'can't mess up too bad. An' if y'do, y'll kiss it better, right?"

Vincent chuckled. "How about this," he said, getting up onto his knees and leaning forward to firmly kiss Cid's lips. When he pulled away he said, "I shall kiss you now, and ban any possibility of hurting you." He then held out his hand to Cid and said, "Lead on, Mr. Highwind, and explain to me how it is done."

Cid got them into the bathroom, which was still a little damp from his shower, as he'd absentmindedly closed the door upon exiting. He handed Vincent the razor from beside the sink and began rummaging around for the can of cream. With a triumphant, "Gotcha!" he handed that over as well and took his seat on the closed toilet. "Be real generous with that, y'hear? Whoever said less is more's a dumbass."

Vincent palmed the can of shaving cream, doing a remarkable job at hiding an impish grin. Positioning Cid in front of him, he hopped up to sit on the counter, shook the can, and expelled an extremely generous amount of cream into his hand – way more than was necessary to do the job. He then set the can down and divided the cream between both of his hands and began to apply it to Cid's cheeks, jaw, chin and neck. He hesitated just a moment before applying cream to Cid's nose and forehead, effectively making a mask of shaving cream. He finally lost his fight with the grin and actually burst out laughing at the look on Cid's face. Finally he managed to get himself under control enough to ask, "Was I generous enough, Cid?"

"Oh, I dunno. Reckon if I give ya a big ol' sloppy kiss while m'face is like this an' I end up w'some left, y'prob'ly were." Cid couldn't pretend to scowl anymore, so he grinned widely and asked, "Should we try that? Course then y'll hafta start all over again, an' we'll just hafta keep testin'." He let himself laugh a bit longer then sobered up. He'd have to keep a straight face if he wanted it to end well. "Just don't go tryin'a shave m'nose hairs w'that thing," he warned solemnly.

Still chuckling, Vincent picked up the razor. "Oh I wouldn't worry about that, Cid. They haven't gotten long enough to warrant a good shave yet." The mechanics of shaving were not that difficult to figure out: go against the grain of the hair for a closer shave, and he was a quick learner. Very soon he was completely absorbed in his task. He began with Cid's neck, taking a careful swipe with the razor then shaking it off in the water he had put into the stopped sink next to him. When he got to the underside of the Cid's jaw, it took him a moment of craning his neck, more than once puffing his hair out of his face; before he figured out Cid was quite capable of tilting his head to accommodate him. Having figured that out, Vincent straightened his aching back and began tilting Cid's head to the angle he required. After the man's neck was done, he huffed. "This is rather tedious. I don't see how you can tolerate to do this every day."

"I usually don't let it get this bad. Not s'much a problem when I keep up with it," he said, moving as little as possible. His eyes followed every movement of Vincent's face. Really, this endeavor had been worth it just to watch Vincent's expressions. Cid figured the screwed up look and the one that showed Vincent's tongue between his teeth both represented deep concentration. The swipe of the razor against his skin felt nice, and when it pulled away the stiff, scratchy hairs, he felt clean. Vincent moved on to his chin, and Cid stilled again, noticing that he'd begun to fidget.

"You know," Vincent said as he worked on Cid's jaw after finishing the cop's chin, "I don't think I have ever felt your skin this soft or smooth. I love it." He leaned back to inspect his work before moving on to the other side. "And it makes you look younger. Less worn."

Cid huffed. "Still don't look my age, though, do I? Don't think I ever have." His heart had pounded for the few seconds he had let himself believe Vincent was going to say he loved him. Oh well; this was close enough, and he was not going to complain about it. He did, however, waggle his eyebrows and ask, "So I'm sexy like this?"

"Very much so," Vincent affirmed without hesitation. "In fact," he murmured. "I think I would very much like for you to kiss me, Mr. Highwind."

Cid chuckled. "Seein' as y'got a razor in yer hand, I reckon I ain't got much'f a choice, do I?" As far as he could tell, Vincent was mostly finished with him, so Cid stood, bringing their mouths together as he did. His hands went automatically to Vincent's waist and stayed there until he pulled away, squeezing lightly in appreciation. "An' after I wash all o' this off m'face, I'mma do it again," he promised, "so don't go nowhere."

Vincent had sighed into Cid's kiss, body becoming loose and relaxed as he set the razor down on the counter. "I'm not going anywhere." He rumbled as he leaned back against the mirror, drowsy-eyed and grinning, very much looking forward to that promised kiss as Cid bent over the sink to wash off the shaving cream. He let his eyes roam over Cid's fine strong back and the muscles that rippled just under the skin. He bit his lip as he imagined digging his nails into it. He gave no thought to where those images came from, only that they were, and that was enough.

When all the cream was rinsed away, Cid walked around and returned to where he had been standing in front of Vincent. "Got it all?" he asked, staying teasingly out of reach while he awaited the answer.

Vincent arched a brow as he stared at Cid. Finally he simply nodded.

One of Cid's brows arched in return, though not nearly so elegantly, he was sure. "Y'd better hope so," was all he said before fulfilling his promise.

Vincent moaned softly as Cid's mouth slowly caressed his own, and when they broke apart, he rested his forehead against Cid's and goaded roughly, "Is that the best you can do?"

"You know it ain't," Cid answered, dragging Vincent's body to the edge of the counter as he kissed him again, this time allowing his teeth to graze Vincent's lips before slipping his tongue into Vincent's mouth. "But I think we'd best get somewhere more comf'table b'fore I show ya what else I c'n do, huh?"

Wrapping his arms around Cid's neck, Vincent returned the cop's kiss hungrily. "And where would you have in mind?" he asked a little absently as he pulled back, studying Cid's wet, swollen lips. He licked his own as he ran his thumb over them. Unconsciously, he reached down in between his legs and rubbed his stiffening cock through the thin material of his borrowed pants. He was fascinated by Cid's lips, and he leaned forward to crush them and his own together again, groping for Cid's big hand as he did so and bringing it down to replace his own over his groin. He moaned softly as he rested his hands on Cid hips. Past and possible future melted away in favor of the present, and he couldn't complain at all.

Cid kissed Vincent with equal fervor, and his eyes wandered to where Vincent was touching himself through his pants. A shudder ran through Cid at the prospect of replacing that hand with his own- and then Vincent was doing it for him, pressing into his palm and urging his fingers to feel what lay beneath the barrier of cloth. He groaned. "Y'keep this up an' I ain't gonna remember." They needed to move before things got too heated, so he placed both hands on Vincent's waist and tugged him off the counter, making sure his feet hit the ground gently. A quick look up and down the other man's body led Cid to decide the shirt Vincent had put on earlier, could go. "This's just gonna be a problem later," he muttered as he pulled it over Vincent's head and not even bothering with the buttons. The sight of the newly bared skin had him shuddering again and wanting to touch it, kiss it, mark it, and show Vincent how much pleasure could come from just that. His hands reached out without his permission and touched anyway, sliding over scarred sides and pulling Vincent forward to bring their lips together again. One hand found the waistband of the pants and gripped it as Cid pulled his mouth away from Vincent's and brought it to his ear instead. "That better?" he whispered.

"Uh-huh," Vincent said breathily as he leaned into Cid's touch, enjoying perhaps too much the feel of those roughened hands over his marred skin. He shivered and his nipples pebbled. He turned his head and brought it back to suck on Cid's earlobe a moment before he groaned softly as he took Cid's hand in his own and slid it over the waistband and down to rest on his hard, bare flesh. He groaned louder and pushed his hips into the contact. He gasped, taking Cid's other hand and sliding down under his pants to rest on a buttock where the man's hand squeezed roughly. Vincent gave a soft cry, his eyelids fluttering as he sealed their lips together again.

He wanted to touch, and very badly, but Cid also knew that if they stayed here and touched each other this way, he would regret letting this opportunity pass. "That's it," he breathed. "That's just it." Cid pulled Vincent roughly against him as he slid his hand out of the front of the pants. It reached around to join the other one, taking its place below the waistband and squeezing the firm flesh it found. Their erections rubbed together, and even through layers of clothing, the feeling was enough to make Cid groan. His hands moved back to Vincent's waist and turned him around, pressing his crotch up against Vincent's backside immediately after that.

Resting his chin on Vincent's shoulder, Cid said, his voice rough and somewhat strained, "M'takin' ya t'bed, Vincent." He began to slowly lick up Vincent's neck, grinning when the other man shuddered in his arms. "M'doin' it right, like I should'a done th' first time." He gave a brief, light nip, his hands coming up to rest flat against Vincent's chest. "Gonna do right by ya, Vincent."


	35. Chapter 35

**Warning:** I think it was obvious, considering the end of the last chapter, where things were headed, and we chose (this time) to leave the scene intact. This is...I think the most graphic description of sex and assorted acts that I've included in my version, and I am doing so simply because it wouldn't make sense to skip an entire chapter.

That said, if you find the amount of detail to be sickening or off-putting, let me know and I'll start filtering again.

Thanks,  
Raps

* * *

"Cid," Vincent groaned, as he let the cop steer him back into the bedroom, the man's arms never leaving their embrace. He could feel Cid's erection pressing firmly against the cleft of his backside, and he clenched his muscles even as he longed for more. They stopped at the edge of the bed, and Cid's hands found their way back down between his legs, to cup and squeeze, and Vincent groaned low in his throat. He was quickly drowning in sensation he never thought he could experience with another person, let alone another man.

Being pressed against Vincent this way was torture, but he could not have been paid to move away…unless it was to progress. "Y'feel that? S'what y'do t'me just about ever' time I get too close to ya." Cid nipped at Vincent's earlobe, less gently this time, as his hands stopped their groping and moved on to find more productive work. He had to pull away a bit from behind, but it would be worth it. Once the ugly pants were pushed down a fraction and their drawstring was loosened, they slid neatly off Vincent's body and pooled around his ankles. Free now to pursue their target directly, his hands returned to Vincent's thighs so he could grip them as his own hips came forward again to create that same wonderful contact with Vincent from behind. Unable to resist touching the now considerable erection he could see over Vincent's shoulder, Cid wrapped an encouraging hand around it and murmured, "Y'know what I wanna do. It's okay?"

Vincent's only reply was yet another moan as he turned in Cid's loose embrace. Wrapping his hand around his cock and beginning to pump it, he welded his lips to Cid's, opening his mouth and thrusting deep with his tongue. His other hand went around Cid's waist to grip one of Cid's buttocks and squeeze it firmly.

Cid allowed Vincent to lead the kiss; he gave when Vincent pushed and reached when Vincent's tongue retreated. It lasted several long moments Cid would not have traded for anything else in the world, but the moment they broke apart, he returned to craving more. His arms wrapped around Vincent and held him tightly through one more searing kiss, and then gently pressed him onto the mattress, freeing Cid to slip his own shorts to the floor. He would have been able to, that is, had he not been distracted by the sight of Vincent watching him, hand still steadily working his cock. Instead of simply removing his pants, Cid locked eyes with Vincent and made a production of the act, exaggerating the time it took to push them over his hips and groaning loudly when they made contact with his own erection. When the shorts finally lay on the floor behind Cid, the big body they had just left joined Vincent's on the bed for another kiss.

Panting into the kiss, Vincent brought his body closer to release with each jerk on his cock. Cid's lips, firm and demanding against his own, the man's tongue thrusting against his, was heady; the cop's hot body half-pinning his own to the mattress only served to enflame his lust. Never before, with _any_ of his past lovers, had he ever been able to be this rough, to move this desperately. His breathing turned ever more ragged as he came closer to orgasm. "So close…_ngh_…so- so…_close_!" He needed more, he needed…"Cid." He groaned.

"Vincent," Cid gasped, breaking away from the place on Vincent's neck he was kissing. He wanted to watch, to see when- no; Vincent deserved more than his own hand. He deserved everything Cid had promised him and more, and Cid would see that he got it tonight. With reluctance that matched the look on Vincent's face, Cid reached down and removed Vincent's hand from its work and grabbed the other just in case. He brought them together gently over Vincent's head, holding them with one of his own hands, and whispered, "Doncha wanna know what it feels like t'come while I'm inside ya? Hm?" He nuzzled Vincent's ear and bit gently, tugging on the lobe. "Wanna have m'arms around ya when y'let go, m'mouth on yours so only I c'n hear when y'yell for me? I want that," Cid finished quietly, now drawing back to look into Vincent's eyes earnestly. "I wanna make ya feel that good."

Vincent had let loose a disappointed little whimper when Cid had pried his hand from his erection, and when the man had pinned both of them above his head he had begun to squirm as he sought contact for his throbbing cock. He arched his back, rolled his head to the side to run his tongue over his own arm and spread his legs, rocking his pelvis up to at least try and get some relief by rubbing is cock against his own belly. But that had backfired horribly when it only served to tease him rather than provide any relief. "Cid," he begged in his deep voice, made rougher now by his own desire as his hands opened and closed, fingers curling and uncurling as he squirmed in Cid's hold. "_Please_…" he begged.

"I know," Cid choked out. "Y'want more, don't ya? I know. I'mma give ya what y'want. But y'gotta promise, Vin, keep these hands up here just a minute longer, a' right?" At Vincent's hurried but seemingly distracted nod, Cid released him slowly and moved to the other side of the bed to fumble around inside the drawer of the bedside table. There was a nearly full bottle of what he needed, and he returned to Vincent with it triumphantly. Looking at the flushed, fevered body was enough to send another strong shudder through him, and he began warming the oil on his fingers while pressing slow, openmouthed kisses on Vincent's chest.

"Nnnn," Vincent moaned softly, repetitively, in between pants. He _tried_ to do what Cid told him to do, and keep his hands above his head, even with them fisted in his hair, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult as his need for release continued to build until his whole body was one throbbing burn of desire. He didn't care _what _Cid did, just as long as it gave him that thrill of pleasure that he remembered from the last time he gave Cid his body. He needed to occupy his mouth, and just biting on his lower lip was not giving him the satisfaction he yearned for, so he broke his hastily given word to Cid, and removed his hands from above his head. Bringing them down, he placed them on either side of Cid's face and brought the man's lips back up to his own, moaning as he devoured the cop's mouth. But try as he might he couldn't thrust his tongue deep enough, kiss hard enough or suck on Cid's bottom lip enough to satisfy him, and he broke the kiss with a whimpered groan of frustration.

Cid was having a difficult time accomplishing anything. He was torn between watching Vincent like this as he struggled to find pleasure on his own and moving forward so the pleasure would be greater and mutual. The former was very tempting; Vincent was captivating like this, and Cid could have watched him for hours had not the compulsion to touch interrupted him. Yet, as nice as it was to watch, Cid wanted to be the one who gave Vincent the pleasure he was seeking. The oil was probably less cold now, and the sooner that was done, the sooner Cid could- Cid sat back and chewed on his lower lip. This needed to be about Vincent and not him, and he could find other ways to please Vincent, to keep the anticipation alive longer…But Vincent wanted release, and soon, and Cid wanted nothing more than to help him enjoy this. But…there was always a "but." It wasn't necessarily certain that Vincent would enjoy what Cid wanted to do, or even permit it. And if he did permit it but didn't enjoy it, chances were that he would not stop Cid and Cid would end up having hurt him again in yet another irreparable way. He'd been thinking too long; Vincent would think he was losing interest, and he was most certainly not. Taking a deep breath, Cid leaned over Vincent and asked seriously, "Vincent, do- d'ya trust me t'make ya feel good?"

_That_ cut through his haze of lust with surgical precision. Though continuing to breathe deeply, with gooseflesh covering his chest, his movements stilled. Vincent frowned slightly and asked, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I want- w'll it feels good when I kiss ya, don't it?" Cid asked, demonstrating briefly and finding himself even more reluctant to release Vincent's mouth this time. "An' when I touch ya, y'like that," he said, and grinned as his hand teased down Vincent's side and back up. "An' when I- with m'fingers, when I do it just right?" This was a bad idea, and he should stop, should not have even entertained thoughts… "I love makin' you feel like that." He punctuated the statement with another searching kiss, fully pressing his body against Vincent's. "So much. An' I wanna do that now, make y'feel good like that, but I dunno if y'd be okay with…" He sighed and let his forehead fall to rest against Vincent's, bodies still aligned. "Would it be disgustin' to ya f'I…" the rest was mumbled, and Cid could feel his cheeks heating further; had they not already been flushed with emotion and lust, a blush would most certainly have formed now.

Vincent shivered when he felt Cid's hand smooth over his tingling flesh, the callouses scraping gently, and he moaned softly as he arched his back up to press his chest against Cid's. Yes, Cid knew how to make him feel good, and he was hoping the man was going to do that now. But the way Cid was talking, it almost sounded like it _embarrassed _Cid to touch him. Cid mumbled something into his neck, and Vincent pulled his head back to look at Cid, startled. _Surely _he hadn't heard Cid right…had he? "You…you, uh…what?" he squeaked rather inelegantly.

Cid groaned and dropped his head onto Vincent's shoulder, then said plaintively, "Don' make me say it again… If, uh, if it's not all right, I understand." He did understand, and he wouldn't be surprised or disappointed if Vincent did refuse. "I just thought…well, I wanna make sure y'feel better t'night than y'ever have." He grinned up at Vincent and waited.

Vincent heard the sincerity in Cid's voice and it touched him. He turned his head so that his lips were right by Cid's ear and breathed, "You already have." He then flicked his tongue out and across Cid's earlobe as his heart began to beat faster, not in fear this time…but in anticipation. He sucked on the lobe briefly as his hand strayed back down to wrap around his cock, before moaning softly, "Yes."

Cid shivered and kissed Vincent again before moving aside so he could roll over and draw himself onto his hands and knees. When that was done, Cid knelt behind him and stretched over him, placing kisses from the base of his neck down his spine until he, too, was properly positioned. As he lowered himself to the appropriate height and spread Vincent with one hand on each cheek, the realization of what he was about to do hit him. He figured this was the point at which he would become disgusted and want to back, but he found that instead, he was quite looking forward to the reactions he'd get and not at all dreading the act. He swallowed anyway to steel himself and then leaned forward and began with a kiss that turned into a very wet swipe of his tongue. At the thought of what was happening, Cid felt a rush of arousal and let out a choked-off moan before repeating the action. He shifted his hands so that one kept the flesh accessible while the other stroked mindlessly and soothingly over Vincent's hip.

With a massive shudder and low, deep moan, Vinent's eyelids fluttered when he felt the slow, wet lick of Cid's tongue over his anus. _Never_ had he ever been touched in such a way before. His breathing sped up, and he parted his legs even wider as he gave encouraging little murmurs and moans. What Cid was doing was intensely intimate; the sort of thing lovers did, safely sequestered in the confines of their own home, safe from prying eyes, whispering tongues and cruel judgments. He jumped when he felt Cid's tongue thrust just past the tight ring of muscle and he looked back over his shoulder, cheeks flushed, lids heavy and his thick hair obscuring a portion of his face. He could see a sliver of blue from Cid's shuttered eyes as the cop hummed his pleasure. Vincent licked his lips as he continued to watch Cid, giving a soft, lusty yelp and groan when Cid paused in the laving of his puckered opening to nip one rounded buttock.

Vincent let his head drop, becoming lost in the erotic pleasure Cid was giving him. Looking down his body, past his own straining erection, he could see Cid's cock, hanging thick and heavy and hard in between the man's thighs. The broad tip glistened as it wept pre-come. He shuddered when he remembered what that flesh felt like stretching his body. He stared at it, wanting to wrap his lips around it so badly that he shook from the intensity of it. He wanted it shoved into his body, over and over, and the muscles of his ass clenched reflexively. "Cid," he moaned, near desperately, as he fisted his hands in the bedspread.

Cid could have continued all night, spurred on by Vincent's sounds of pleasure and his body's reactions. However, for now, he pulled away after a few more thrusts of his tongue and one last lingering lick- and then, of course, a kiss to the back of each thigh before he rose up and stretched for the bottle of oil. He coated his cock first, and the touch was massive relief after so long with no contact. It also drove home just how much he wanted to be with Vincent. A quiet, shuddering whimper left him as he abandoned his erection again to finish preparing Vincent. His fingers and his breath made sure the oil was not too cold before he inserted the first finger, finding that the entrance presented almost no difficulty. It was only after the second finger had joined the first that Cid realized he wanted to see Vincent for this, to be able to look into his eyes. The sounds were wonderful, but there was much more to be said for the sight of Vincent in pleasure. "Hey," he said, "I don't wanna…like this. S'it okay if we do it another way?"

Vincent had gasped when Cid had inserted his finger, had given a breathy little moan when the second had joined the first and he had begun rocking back onto Cid's fingers almost eagerly. When Cid stopped, Vincent looked over his shoulder with a small sound of disappointment. "Don't stop," he gasped. "Don't…stop…" What was Cid saying about "another way"? How many other ways _were_ there? He forced himself to take deep if slightly broken breaths in an effort to calm down. "Another way?" he asked roughly.

"Yeah," Cid said, nodding. "Wanna look atcha. Be easier t'finish this while'm back here, though," he muttered, and shot a knowing grin at Vincent as both fingers gently but abruptly pressed back inside and began scissoring again. When he was confident that replacing his fingers with his cock would bring little more than brief discomfort, Cid removed them and crawled up the bed to recline against the headrest. "C'mere," he told Vincent, holding out his arms and smiling widely. "C'n even hold ya this way without almost bendin' one of us in half."

Curious as to just what Cid had in mind Vincent raised an eyebrow as the cop got situated then both eyebrows rose as he understood what he was supposed to do. Blushing, he moved to straddle Cid's hips while Cid held his cock in position. With a hand on Cid's shoulder he slowly eased himself down onto Cid's turgid length, gasping as the man's cock slowly filled him, stretched him and his eyelids fluttered as he bit his lower lip. Once he was fully seated, he tipped his head back, and found that he rather enjoyed the feeling of Cid inside him. A tiny, pleased smiled curled the corners of his lips up as his other hand went to Cid's other shoulder and the cop slowly stroked his sides.

Cid had nodded his encouragement but been sharply cut off at the feeling of Vincent beginning to sink onto him. He gasped as well, mouth working soundlessly as he struggled to find words to express his ecstasy. He gave up with that and instead, when they had adjusted to this position, reached down to grip Vincent's hips loosely. He liked Vincent's hands on his shoulders, but he liked them even better wrapped around him- if only they could get closer like this. But they would have time later to cuddle to their mutual hearts' content. He wanted to touch Vincent's cock, and looking at it only increased the compulsion, but he forced himself away. For now, he rocked Vincent gently against him and made eye contact, urging him on that way before letting his hands go back to stroking Vincent's sides.

Cid moved so easily inside of him now that Vincent could focus more on finding that one spot that he so desperately yearned for. A slight rock of his pelvis had him arching his back and reaching behind him to grip Cid's bent knees with a sharply gasped, "_Gods!"_ He then proceeded to raise and lower himself on Cid's erection just enough to pet that spot and send tiny shivers of pleasure up his spine. Letting his head rock back once more, he gave soft little moans, quite content to remain at this speed and position, but Cid quite clearly, had other plans. Vincent gasped when Cid gave a low growl and thrust up with his hips, _hard_. His eyes flew open when the cop's movement shoved him up and forward sharply, forcing him to catch himself with his arms or fall completely on top of Cid. He would have said something except that Cid had begun to thrust up with an unexpected aggression, and he had to keep braced upon his arms as the man wiped all coherent thought clean away.

Vincent had thought he had found the best speed and position for the pleasure he thought he had wanted, but Cid had just done a spectacular job at proving him wrong; the shivers of pleasure turned into great waves that washed over and consumed him. Cid's thrusts were hard and fast, the cop's hands having moved to his buttocks where they were pulled roughly apart, and the pleasure it wrought built just as quickly. "_Fuuuuuuuuuuck_…" Vincent moaned crudely, and that was the end of intelligible words as he was rendered down to broken moans and labored panting breaths. With a sudden shudder and a bitten, hoarse cry, he came, spilling his seed onto Cid's stomach, even as he continued to hold himself braced and steady as Cid continued to pound up into him. All he could do was ride out the waves of pleasure that continued while his brain swam in a blissed-out haze.

Cid hadn't planned to push, but he'd _had _to. Finally they'd gotten to this point…and then Vincent had just been _teasing_, and while that was great most of the time, it was too much now. Cid had gone far too long without taking anything for his own pleasure, and before he knew it, he had all but snapped and started _taking _him, and the flicker of guilt that appeared at the brief moment of shock on Vincent's face disappeared quickly when he saw how much Vincent was enjoying this. He was surprised again when Vincent came; he hadn't touched him, and Vincent's hands were still busy keeping him from falling.

The thought that Vincent had needed only this encouraged him further, and Cid kept thrusting, holding off his orgasm until he couldn't take it anymore and shoved himself deep into Vincent with another growl, holding the body above him firmly in place. Only after his vision had cleared again did he realize that his mouth was full of Vincent's shoulder, and that he wasn't ready to let it go yet. He released it anyway in favor of the chance to catch Vincent's eye as his arms drifted up and settled across the scarred back. His breaths still shuddered when they left him, and he could feel his eyes still trying to focus.

He scooted up so Vincent would not be in danger of falling over, and found that he could not phrase a proper question yet, so he nuzzled at Vincent's neck and made an inquisitive noise. He gave an internal sigh at the realization that he really did need to learn to control himself somewhat during sex.

When it was finally over, the pleasure fading away to leave a dull, persistent throb in his low back and rectum, Vincent found himself disappointed. He wasn't ready to stop yet, though his body was clearly trying to tell him otherwise. Cid was buried inside him, and he was content with that as he rocked back to fully seat himself again on the slowly softening flesh. He looked down at the fluid glistening on Cid's stomach and he trailed two fingers through it, and brought his hand up to look at the white, slightly pearlescent substance wonderingly. He put the two fingers into his mouth and sucked the semen off, tasting his slightly salty, slightly sour essence while looking at Cid. "I had no idea that could happen; that I could come without being…stimulated." He blushed furiously and looked away.

Cid smiled and let his hands trail over Vincent's back. "I didn't expect ya to either." He laughed. "Makes me damn proud o' m'self, I know that." Vincent's fingers were playing over his skin again, collecting more of the fluid, and Cid snatched his wrist and brought the fingers to his own mouth before Vincent could attempt to get a second taste. He shut his eyes and moaned around the digits as he sucked them gently and cleaned them with his tongue. "It feels so good t'know I made you feel like that. Thank you," he said, almost shyly, "fer lettin' me…do that." Both his hands still held Vincent's right one, and he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it. He smiled again as he choked back the words of love that so badly wanted to be spoken. "Reckon I'd better get some mouthwash in me sometime soon. I ain't sleepin't'night less'n I get me a couple more o' them kisses." He made no move to dislodge Vincent or remove himself from Vincent's body; this too was a part of the intimacy Cid craved. His hands released Vincent's and went to either side of his face instead, gently holding and stroking back chunks of hair while Cid looked at him, taking in the disheveled and satisfied look. He couldn't keep quiet any longer when their eyes met. "I really do, y'know."

Vincent's blush deepened at the mention of 'mouthwash' and he averted his eyes again, severely embarrassed. "I'm sure you would like some mouthwash considering where that mouth has been." But it was soothing, Cid's hands on him. They were so very, very gentle, reverent and cherishing. Vincent covered one of Cid's hands with one of his own, and looked back at Cid's face, his own still too hot for his own comfort. "Really do what?" he asked curiously.

"Love ya," Cid breathed, and it was his turn to avert his eyes to escape the discomfort he knew he would see in Vincent's. "All of ya. Love kissin' ya, touchin' ya, makin' y'feel good in ever' way I c'n think of. Love makin' ya smile an' laugh more'n just 'bout anything. I couldn't be happier when I'm with you. I've never, ever been happier than I am on th'worst o' days with you. I just…there's nothin' else I c'd ever ask for." He wasn't sure that Vincent would understand, but he would wait for the day he did, no matter how long that took. "I don't give a shit what anybody else's told ya. Y're fuckin' perfect," he finished matter-of-factly.

Vincent blinked slowly. What did he say to that? No one had ever really told him that or _cared_ about such little things as his _smile_. He pulled Cid up against him, wrapping his arms around the man's big body, and fisted one hand in Cid's wild blond hair. He held Cid to him and whispered, "Thank you." He shut his eyes tightly and turned his lips in toward Cid's ear. "_Thank you_." He then pulled back and ran fingers lightly over one of Cid's now-smooth cheeks and murmured softly, "But for the love of Holy, I do not see what you see. There is nothing redeemable here. I am only a shell of the man I once was." Vincent leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Cid's, kissing the cop slowly, trying to show with his mouth what he just could not say with his voice because of the doubt that weighed him down. But his heart knew; a quiet little secret it hoarded to itself in smug silence as it waited until the right time when its owner would believe it…that he was beginning to fall in love.


	36. Chapter 36

All right, guys. This might be the **last update for a while**; if things work out, we'll be posting bi-weekly, but I'm back at school on Friday and studying abroad this semester, so I'm gonna be a busy student _and_ a busy shutterbug-style tourist, so RL things are _definitely_ going to take precedence for a while. We'll try to avoid an all-out hiatus, but this, as much as we enjoy it, is not at the top of the list.

Thanks for understanding!  
-Raps

* * *

"Thank you," Cid said in return when they broke apart, "fer seein' somethin' in me. An' if this is only th'shell, Vincent…y'damn near blow me away already. I dunno if I c'd handle th'whole man you are." He grinned crookedly and buried his face against Vincent's neck, holding him tightly and smiling. "So that's why y're just right fer me, jus' like this. I know one other thing, too. You don't get off o' me soon we'll be goin' another round." He wasn't reacting physically to the pressure around him, but his mind had been occasionally straying to it, and his body would not be far behind. Just because it was there, he nipped at Vincent's earlobe before saying, "So unless y'wanna know just how much I c'n fill ya up, y'd best settle yerself down somewhere else." Not that he wanted Vincent to release him; at another time they could have remained this way for hours, but tonight Cid was too emotionally charged, and his emotions had a way of showing through his actions. "An' I'll go fer th'mouthwash an' then come back here an' kiss ya dizzy, how's that?"

"All right," Vincent said softly, blush returning. He lifted himself up off of Cid, shivering when he felt Cid's fluids trickle down the inside of his thigh. He moved to the side and as Cid went into the bathroom settled himself onto his stomach, wadding a pillow up under his head. _Such a strange turn of events is life_, he thought, going over the tumultuous last two days, and at that moment two things struck him as strange, and neither one not unwelcome: he didn't desire to cover himself, and Sephiroth was silent. It should have concerned him that his personal demon was eerily quiet, but at the moment he could have wept at the relief of it.

As he swished and gargled the mouthwash, Cid thought of Vincent, mainly about how hard it must be for him to even try. He found himself feeling simultaneously proud and guilty; proud that someone thought him worth keeping and that Vincent was still strong enough to make this effort, and guilty that he was causing more suffering in persisting. Cid could only hope that he was worth the effort. He returned to Vincent quietly and confidently after sighing at the mirror. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like he meant something. All thoughts of inadequacy were as far away as they had ever been, and that drove home the fact that this, whatever he could call his relationship with Vincent, was right.

As he settled on his back beside Vincent, Cid looked at him, smiling, and rolled over to run a hand down his back. Cid scooted closer so they were touching most of the way down, and his roaming hand came to rest between Vincent's shoulder blades. The other hand wormed its way under the pillow and found one of Vincent's, which it grasped eagerly and held. "Come up with anything I c'n do t'make it better next time?" he teased, grinning widely.

The blush returned, coloring Vincent's cheeks a rather heated pink, as he burrowed into his pillow, squeezing Cid's hand. "Ask me that later, after I have recovered from that rather…impressive performance."

"Heh." Cid squeezed back and craned his neck so he could kiss Vincent, compelled by the blush to see how many shades darker it could go. He'd also wiped away the remaining fluids on his stomach, and he winced inwardly as he remembered that he had forgotten to do the same for Vincent. "Want me go get a washcloth an' clean ya up? I didn't think about it 'til just now."

"You do not have to if you do not wish to." Vincent murmured. "I won't ask that of you." He then brought the hand not holding Cid's out from under the pillow and traced the cop's bottom lip lightly with a forefinger. "Do you think that if we do not sleep, then tomorrow will not come? I don't want to leave." He breathed. "I have to be so cold and unfeeling for the work that I do, distant." He pulled his hand back to tuck it under his chin. "It has been…freeing…to put those expectations on a shelf and forget about them. Thank you for that gift, Cid."

Cid made a soft sound as Vincent's hand left his face. "Aw, sugar, if not sleepin' made th'world stop turnin', I reckon both of us'd be stuck way back there in th'past." He smiled. "But I don't want ya t'leave either. I never do. An' we'll just hafta think o' something even more distractin' next time." He kissed Vincent's cheek and vanished into the bathroom for a moment, returning after procuring a warm, damp cloth. He spread Vincent's thighs carefully and wiped away what he found there, rubbing in soothing circles and gradually moving upward until he was content that Vincent would be only minimally uncomfortable later. Any more that leaked out would have to take care of itself, because Cid wanted to go back to lying next to Vincent. He did, yawning as he settled in. "But I'll stay up with ya as long as y'like anyhow if y'wanna try it."

"Well, if I am to sleep, then I can think of no other place I would rather do it." Vincent said around a large yawn, his eyelids lowering sleepily. "But we shall have to work on your taste in movies I think." He mumbled, burrowing into his pillow with a contented little sigh.

That morning, Vincent came awake slowly. For the first time in years his sleep had been uninterrupted, and it left him feeling disoriented and confused. There was a sliver of dusky sunlight shining in one eye and something warm and moist smashed against the side of his head that turned out to be Cid Highwind's face. Struggling a little, he sat up and looked down at the sleeping blond, limbs flung at odd angles across the bed and a string of drool slowly soaking in the pillow that had until recently cradled his head. "You had better not have drooled on me, Cid." Vincent muttered and brought a hand up to check for moisture. With a sigh of relief, he only found dry skin that was flushed from such close contact with another warm body. He jumped a little when Cid gave a mighty snort and rolled over, presenting Vincent with his broad back. The bruising was still evident but had faded quite a bit in the two days that had passed. He trailed his fingers over the purple, mottled skin and smiled gently when Cid shivered and muttered in his sleep. Vincent then sighed sadly as he looked at the clock. Tseng would be there in just a little over two hours. Oh, how he wished he didn't have to get up! But he didn't. Not yet. Not until he absolutely had to, and with that knowledge, he flipped the soggy pillow over, scooted back down under the covers and snuggled up against Cid's warm back. He slid one arm around Cid's chest and wriggled one leg in between the cop's and settled down to sleep away the remaining two hours of the best two days of his life in fourteen years.

Cid, on the other hand, woke rather abruptly. Perhaps nearly a half-hour after Vincent had gone back to sleep, Cid's nightmare –at least he thought it had been a nightmare; he couldn't tell anymore- reached a peak and jolted him back into awareness. A sharp gasp was the only evidence of his displeasure, and he calmed quickly upon seeing Vincent next to him. He disentangled himself and scooted to the edge of the bed, sitting with his legs dangling over the sides and his face in his hands. When the blurriness left his vision, he turned back to look at Vincent and was met with the clenching in his chest he had come to associate with Vincent-related pain. He didn't know whether it would be better to let him sleep or to wake him up and use their time to wrap up loose ends and such.

Were there any? He wasn't sure, but he did know that he did not want an exchange of goodbyes to be the only thing they said to each other today. Cid could think of one way to give him a wonderful wake-up, but elected not to follow through. He lay back down instead and was startled to see open red eyes watching him. "Sorry. D'I wake ya?" he asked sheepishly.

"Sort of," Vincent grunted, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back until it gave a loud series of 'pops'. "Oh _Gaia_, that felt good," he sighed, then looked back at Cid. He frowned. "Why that expression, Cid? And why are you up? I know you told me at least once how much you enjoyed sleeping in." He felt a little confused, and strangely as though he were missing something.

Cid laughed quietly. "Maybe I been gettin' too much sleep, is all. Had a funny dream…one o' them ones y'just plumb don' like but can't r'member why when y'wake up." One of his hands moved of its own accord to slide down Vincent's torso as he stretched, feeling the hidden muscle and the all-too-obvious ribs. "Don't look like that," he chastised, "all sad an' shit. No reason for it." His heart seemed to beat "_liar, liar, liar_" as it sped up at the sight of Vincent's body when the covers slid partly away. There was a reason, and his heart knew it, but his mind couldn't figure it out. Frankly, he was tired of trying to figure it out. "Prob'ly just leftover from th'dream," he muttered as an explanation to them both.

"Maybe," Vincent murmured, loving the feel of Cid's hand on his body, but knowing that all too soon he would have to leave. "Hey," he said in a vain attempt to cheer them both up. "I'll be back next Friday. We had an agreement did we not?" He grinned, but didn't really feel it. Deep down, somehow, he knew that he wouldn't be back, and that only succeeded in making him want to cling to the cop and beg the man to take him away. _Dammit, Valentine, get a grip_, he chastised.

Cid nodded distractedly and sat up again, restlessness settling in now that he was awake. "Breakfast?"

Vincent sighed and settled more comfortably into the warm spot that Cid had vacated. "Not really. I'm not very hungry." He murmured, watching Cid's fidgeting and not knowing what else to do or say to soothe the man's very obvious distress.

"Yeah, I ain't either." His head was turned to face Vincent, and he turned his body that way as well to lean over the slim body on the bed. He kissed Vincent firmly, reveling in the familiarity that came with early-morning kisses. That sort of thing was allowed only between lovers; no one else would tolerate bed-breath. "But maybe I was a little hungry fer that."

"You're obsessed," Vincent breathed with a grin, wrapping his arms around Cid's neck to drag the man back down for another kiss.

"Maybe so," he breathed when they broke apart. "But y're worth obsessin' about." Cid grinned and settled on his elbows, looking down at Vincent. "I think while y're here I'm gonna get s'more fodder fer the frenzy, how's that? Wha's yer middle name?"

The smile that reached Vincent's eyes was a warm one as he repositioned his head to better look at Cid. "That is the first time someone has asked me that. It's Lucien; my father gave me his grandfather's name, and naturally my traditionalist mother had a fit. What is yours?"

"Don't have one. Made one up fer m'self when I was 'bout eight, but I can't say as I remember what th'hell it was now. Prob'ly somethin' stupid, like 'Bad-ass' or some other word I wasn't s'posed'a say. I think I had it bad enough without one." Cid snorted and said, "I was named after Daddy, so I was born Cidolphus Highwind II." He grinned back and shifted his legs so he rested more comfortably. "Got rid o' that as soon as I could. A' right…yer birthday? Y'already know mine."

"Cidolphus," Vincent said slowly, trying the name out. He shook his head, "I much prefer Cid, though you do rather resemble a 'James' to me and I'm not sure why." He chuckled and brought one arm up behind his head while the other rested on his chest. "My birthday is October 13th. My mother's family had hoped I would have been born on the autumn equinox, as to be born at that time is believed to be blessing upon the family, but," he shrugged sadly. "It was not to be. I'd like to think that they got over their disappointment."

Cid snickered. "Yer mother's family didn't like yer dad much, huh? Reckon they blamed him fer yer birthday, too. Sounds familiar. 'Course, my momma's family were right t'not like Daddy, but that's a whole different story, an' one y've already mostly heard." He lowered his head to rest on Vincent's arm and let his own arms relax as he all but collapsed onto Vincent. "I'll remember that, though, th'thirteenth." He hummed as he tried to think of another question. "Tell me 'bout yer first crush."

Vincent stilled for a moment at the question, feeling a spike of pain as his thoughts flew to Lucrecia, but it lasted for only a moment. "My first _real_ crush was my wife, Cid. But there was another little girl I had fancied when I was about eight years old. Her name was Mai-Lin, and she was the shyest, sweetest person I think I had ever met. Where all the other little girls had called me a freak behind my back, she always went out of her way to be nice to me. So I would bring her flowers whenever I could. It broke my heart when her family moved away." His tone had taken on a dreamy quality, as he slid his hand out from under Cid's head and began stroking the cop's hair slowly.

"Mmph." Cid's eyes closed at the stroking, but he would not be deterred. "A' right…with th'absolute promise not t'take advantage of it today, where're ya most ticklish?"

"Huh," Vincent grunted. "I'm going to hold you to that Cid Highwind. It would probably have to be a light touch to the bottoms of my feet, but I haven't been tickled in a very long time. _Not _keen to have that stretch broken any time soon mind you. I'm going to trust you with that privileged information, now," he said warningly, giving Cid's hair a gentle tug in emphasis.

"Hey, I promised, didn't I?" Cid asked, attempting to sound hurt that Vincent would doubt him. He grinned. "But what if I don't keep m'word?"

Vincent arched an eyebrow as he looked down his body at Cid. "I shall tie you up. I do not like being tickled."

He opened his eyes to meet Vincent's and waggled his eyebrows. "Tie me up an' do what with me?"

"Leave you to contemplate the consequence of the grievous mistake you just made, Mr. Highwind." Vincent said firmly, but with a quirk to his lips.

"Pfff, yer no fun. We'll save that fer another day, then." Cid laughed. "Hm…favorite season? Favorite time o' day? Favorite dessert?"

Vincent laughed outright at that. "My, but you _are_ full of questions!" He sighed deeply, contentedly. "Favorite season? That one is tricky. I love new spring growth, but the crisp chill of an autum day is most refreshing." He thought a moment. "My favorite time of the day would probably have to be evening. I love a good sunset. And as for my favorite dessert…hm," He paused again, brow creasing in thought. "I suppose that I do not eat much dessert, but I do have a bit of a guilty sweet-tooth for chocolate truffles."

"Heh." Cid decided to answer the last set himself before asking any more. "I like winter a little, 'cause all th'birds come in, but spring's even better, 'cause there's a nest right out on th'fire escape –y've prob'ly heard 'em- and I get t'watch th'babies hatch an' grow up. I like sunrises better'n sunsets, even though I ain't seen too many lately, what with th'way I sleep. I don't really like sweets too much either. Can't stand chocolate. Leaves a nasty feelin' on m'teeth. Guess if I'm gonna eat any kind o' dessert, it'd prob'ly be sugar cookies. Reckon it's 'cause there ain't really too much sweetness to 'em." He sighed and smiled at Vincent. "Guess it's your turn. I'm all out right now, seems like."

"Mmm," Vincent hummed, continuing to thread his fingers through Cid's hair and letting his eyes fall shut. "What is one of your fondest memories?"

Cid froze, quiet as he thought about the question. "I don't…really have many. Guess there's th'day I realized Lazard wasn't just stringin' me along like ever'one else had…an' besides that there's only you an' th'time I've spent with ya." He really should have something else to say, something personal and meaningful to share with Vincent, but there was nothing.

"I'm sorry," Vincent whispered. "I should not have asked that. Perhaps I should refrain from any more questions, yes? I am content to just lie here." Why did he have to keep saying the wrong thing? He didn't know Cid, what Cid's life was like. It was a question that he put no consideration into before he asked it. He had read Cid's file, the difficulties the man had been through. Cid had told him about the drugs, and being used…and still he had asked that question. _Stupid and insensitive move, Valentine_. He sighed again, softly, and caressed Cid's neck gently.

"Mm- no, not at all," Cid said, confused. "S'nothin' wrong with askin'. An' it don't upset me, so don't let it upset you." He kissed Vincent's chest. "An' I ain't content t'just lay here. S'more I wanna know, I jus'…can't think of it all right now." He closed his eyes and enjoyed Vincent's hand on his neck for a while, and then finally asked softly, "Why d'ya care s'much about me?"

Vincent opened his mouth to answer, but shut it again to think about the question. Why did he care about Cid? Probably the more important question was _when _had he begun to care about Cid? "Because I can," he blurted. "Because I want to? You are insufferable, and you drive me insane, but your compassion, your _heart_ moves me like nothing else ever has. You remind me of what I'm missing, what I could be. You show me that I can feel something other than indifference and self-loathing. You fill me up, you make me warm again. How it happened so fast, I don't know, but I am not questioning it." He tipped Cid's coarse face up so that he could meet those wonderful blue eyes. "You are a special man, and how you stayed alive, kept Midgar from devouring you, astounds me. Don't ever change, Cid Highwind; it is the world's fault if they pass your beauty by."

Cid blinked at Vincent slowly, touched by the words and even more so by the honesty in them. He made a soft sound of defeat and lunged up to kiss Vincent soundly, loving him again with everything he had for the simple fact that he saw something worth keeping in Cid. "I don't know what t'say t'that, Vincent, but I appreciate it more'n you know." He settled on his back next to Vincent, looking at the ceiling. "M'favorite way t'waste time is t'look up at th'clouds. When I was growin' up, I lived in sector three before they put th'plate over it, so I could see th'sky all th'time. Sometimes now, when I can't get to a place under th'plate where y'c'n still see throuutgh, I take a trip up top on m'day off just t'do that. Y'know I've never left the city? Always wanted to. Take me with ya next time y'go somewhere?"

"I should like that very much." Vincent murmured, reaching for Cid's hand and lacing their fingers together. "If I could take you anywhere, it would be home, to my country. To the mountains there, so high they touch the clouds. The air is so clean." He turned his head to look at Cid still gazing at the ceiling. He leaned over and kissed the cop's shoulder then nuzzled it. "I never visited the mountains much, but one of the few times that I had, I was lucky enough to find a hot spring. I would like to take you there, provided I could find it again." He chuckled.

Cid's eyes lit up as he turned to face Vincent again. "I'd like that. We'll go one day, jus' you an' me." His hand squeezed Vincent's. He pressed closer and murmured, "We'd find it all right. Be nobody else aroun', just us. An' I'd push ya up against th'nearest rock an' kiss ya while I peel yer clothes off piece by piece 'til there's nothin' left on ya 'cept me. Y'd be so hot by th'time we got t'the water that y'wouldn't even feel th'diff'rence." He demonstrated by kissing Vincent again, and quite enthusiastically.

Vincent gasped as Cid's mouth rather abruptly plundered his own. He pulled at Cid's shoulders, encouraging the man to roll on top of him after which he promptly wrapped his long legs about Cid's hips, pressing their groins together. He eagerly returned the kiss, and when they broke apart, he panted, "Would you now?" He managed to arch a brow. "And just what else do you plan to do at this hot spring?" As if the answer were not obvious, and very, very desirous, but he wanted to hear Cid say it.

"Aw, prob'ly lay on a hot rock an' keep m'self outta th'water while you swim aroun' naked. I don't much like th'idea o' bein' in that much water, y'know?" He grinned down at Vincent. "But maybe with a little persuadin' I could manage t'find a rock w'room enough fer both of us on it, an' when y're all pruney an' wrinkly, you c'd climb on up there with me an' I'd show ya an even better time." He pressed forward with his hips, trapping Vincent's between his and the mattress as he kissed him again. "I think we'd sleep out there that night, me an' you under th'stars. Damn, I'd like that so much…"

Vincent laughed huskily. "So you think you would like me all 'wrinkly', is that it?" He hummed his pleasure at the weight over him that pressed him down into the mattress. He tightened his legs around Cid, and began playing his hands up and down Cid's broad, strong back. "Pity you wouldn't swim with me though," he pouted. "I have heard that sex in the water is quite erotic. Oh well," he sighed. "I suppose I shall have to keep wondering." He kissed Cid's jaw, nibbling it when the man gave an involuntary shiver. "I would like to sleep with you under the stars," he nibbled and licked a little trail along Cid's chin. "I have never been…" up the other side of Cid's jaw. "…very knowledgeable of…" over to Cid's earlobe where he nipped just sharply enough to make the cop jump. "…constellations."

"Well," Cid gasped, "maybe if'n y'manage t'convince me it's worth it, I'll help ya find out." He groaned at Vincent's attention to his jaw and let his head drop onto Vincent's chest, which is where he made his mistake. "Mmm…Vincent?" he asked, dragging his eyes back up to Vincent's as he began pulling away slightly. "Think you c'd turn me loose long enough fer me t'get m'mouth around yer cock? Promise I'll make it worth it." He grinned and kissed Vincent's neck to influence the answer.

"Mm," Vincent murmured before catching Cid's lips in another fierce kiss. "I have high expectations," he breathed, loosening his legs from around Cid's hips to spread them wide. "You'll have to work to impress me, but with as skilled as this mouth is, it shouldn't be a problem." He had released Cid's hips, but not the cop's lips as he continued to kiss the man, long and deep. He slid his tongue against Cid's, shuddering in pleasure at the velvety rasp as one moved against the other. He was a little nervous to allow Cid to do this, and yet he was nearly desperate to feel that unique pleasure again.

Cid huffed. "Well, if y'don't think I'm up t'the job, maybe I'll just sit it out." As he pulled away from the kiss slowly, though, he knew he wouldn't be able to do that. _We oughta be gettin' dressed. Dammit, I don't wanna think about him leavin'… _So he didn't. He focused instead on the trusting way Vincent's legs were spread for him, the way he waited for him, believing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Cid would bring him pleasure and not pain. _Never pain, not from me. Not ever from me_, he thought as he began kissing his way slowly up Vincent's thighs, blue eyes locked with red and a knowing smile on his face.

Vincent watched Cid's slow movements without blinking, his breathing coming short and shallow. With each kiss Cid's mouth drew closer to his cock and he could actually _feel_ the blood pump down into it, stiffening it, lengthening it. The first time Cid had sucked him off, it had taken him by surprise. He had thought he was prepared for it, but in fact he had not been. Nor had he been prepared for how it had made him feel. Now he was ready for it, _craved_ it, even though he was still so nervous. But those nerves only served to heighten his desire, make his pulse race even faster. It was just the two of them, naked, panting, hungry for each other, and he was ready. Vincent propped himself up onto his elbows, cheeks flushed and lips parted as he watched with ragged breath for what Cid wanted to give him. And it was a gift. The eager desire he saw in Cid's eyes, the equally eager anticipation he felt tingling through his own limbs only proved to him what a farce it had been with ShinRa. Rufus had only wanted to humiliate him, had held no true desire for him. This was so very different, and Vincent would remember it for the rest of his life.

Cid reached forward and wrapped a hand around the erection a few inches away from his face and worked it as he shifted Vincent's hips backwards on the bed, encouraging him to lean against the headboard rather than keep the pressure on his elbows. When the resituating was done, Cid closed the distance between his mouth and the head of the heated length in his hand. His eyes closed as he sought the most sensitive areas with his tongue and listened to Vincent's sounds of pleasure. His hand continued massaging the flesh it held, but it eased off as he pressed forward to begin taking in more. His tongue retreated away from the head only to settle firmly against the underside as he started applying suction, light at first and gradually increasing as his head started bobbing to alternately take in and release what he could hold.

Vincent's breathing had turned into gasps as he watched Cid's mouth draw closer to his cock, almost as though in slow-motion. When he felt the cop's warm, wet mouth close over his erection his eyes had rolled back in his head, which had then promptly fallen back against the headboard with a rather loud 'thump'. His hips started to thrust slowly up into Cid's mouth as one hand found its way to the back of the man's head, where he stroked with infinite tenderness. "Ah!" he gasped at a particularly hard flick from Cid's tongue. "Ohhhhhhhh," he breathed, watching entranced and licking his lips as his length disappeared down Cid's throat and the man hummed around it. It was at this point that Vincent began muttering in Wutainese as Cid's actions became firmer and hit him harder than a punch to the chest. He groaned, mumbled more nonsense and began to squirm as he was dragged slowly toward orgasm.

Part of Cid found himself wishing he could understand what Vincent was saying. Another part found it strangely erotic that he could not understand. Yet another part reminded him that he knew perfectly well what Vincent was saying; the words were repetitive, and Cid determined they were something along the lines of "yes," "more," "don't stop," and "fuckdammit!" because those were the words Cid typically spewed on such occasions. The muttering grew louder, Vincent's hips began moving faster, and the shuddering he could feel became stronger. His hands rested on Vincent's waist, thumbs stroking soothingly, encouragingly. For Cid, life offered few things more satisfying than bringing pleasure to a loved one, and he took great satisfaction in bringing it to Vincent.

As orgasm loomed, Vincent teetered on the brink, his body stilling but for the tremors wracking his limbs. His face and chest were covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his hands were fisted in the bedspread while he stared fixedly at Cid, as the cop's head bobbed up and down over his cock. Suddenly his spine jerked straight and stiffened as he came, crying out, his mouth falling open. As he slowly drifted back down, mind lost in a hazy bliss, he breathed in Wutainese: "_I love you._"


	37. Chapter 37

Look! We promised we'd come back! Things have been crazy, but this wasn't forgotten or thrown out, just set aside so more important things could take place. Sorry to any who got tired of waiting, and sorrier to any still crossing your fingers for another chapter.

Now, as it's been a while, Cal and I suggest you **re-read the last chapter** to remind yourself where the story left off, as this one depends rather heavily on that one. Happy reading!

* * *

It shouldn't have been enough, but it was. Between listening to Vincent's encouragement and feeling it through both the hand on his neck and the shudders and twitches causing Vincent's body to jerk beneath him, Cid found himself also nearing orgasm. It hit, finally made possible by the friction made against the mattress, while he was still swallowing around Vincent's spurting cock. His hips stilled moments after Vincent's did, and as his mouth gently pulled away, he released a small sigh that was the only evidence of his own pleasure apart from the fluids cooling on the sheets. He rested his head on Vincent's thigh and smiled up at him, arms relaxing and body warm and heavy.

"I am definitely impressed," Vincent mumbled as he blinked rapidly to focus his eyesight. "And have absolutely no complaints." He trailed his fingers through Cid's wild blond hair while his other hand came up to rest upon his stomach. Cid looked so happy, it warmed him enough to diminish the small spike of shame he felt at his inability to return the affection in the same manner. But if he was lucky enough to get one more chance he would correct that. He would see to it. The sleepy, somewhat drugged smile he returned was reflected in his eyes as he gave a little tug on Cid's hair. "Shall I write you a letter of recommendation?" He gave the cop a lazy wink and mischievous grin. "Or perhaps I should just keep you to myself."

"Glad I c'd stand up t'yer 'high expectations'," Cid teased. "But I won't work as good fer nobody else." Idly nuzzling Vincent's thigh as he continued to rest his head there, Cid felt heat rising to cheeks inexplicably. What if Vincent, oblivious, asked if Cid wanted the favor returned in some way? How would he explain that? Even worse, would it make Vincent feel inadequate to know that Cid had been content in finding pleasure for himself? He would just have to hope that Vincent was not oblivious, and that he was not left with any negative feelings. A minute or two passed, and Cid brought himself onto his knees, eyes full of caution. After appraising Vincent's reaction briefly, he leaned forward and pressed their lips together again, certain that now they could kiss all they wanted without becoming distracted.

As their lips came together, Vincent hummed his approval, his hands coming up of their own accord to frame the cop's face. Suddenly uncomfortable, but not willing to let Cid's mouth go, he began to wriggle down into a more prone position and encountered a damp spot that had not been there before. Lips sliding apart in a wide grin of guilty relief, he rolled them over so that he was braced on his arms over Cid, his hips finding a welcome cradle in between Cid's legs. Position achieved, he looked down into the face that squinted a little back at him. "Looks like there are no complaints all around, yes?" He murmured, rotating his hips suggestively and loving the feel of Cid's body pressed against his own.

"Now how could I have c'mplaints?"Cid asked, attempting to equal Vincent's teasing tone but failing as he felt himself starting to blush again, this time from mild shame at having nothing to offer Vincent and sensing no chance for recovery in the next few minutes…or hell, even the next week, after all they'd done. The way Vincent was moving—he couldn't possibly be planning to go again, could he? While it was perfectly welcome under normal circumstances… this might just be too much. He was lying on his back now over the same spot Vincent had noticed, and that only increased his discomfort. Cid found himself wishing he'd waited, maybe even demanding something from Vincent, just to avoid this whole problem. But that would have – dammit, he was thinking far too much about this. He had no one to impress, no quota to fill –and if there was one, he would have by now, he was sure- and no call to get so concerned. He also had nowhere to hide his face, so he pulled Vincent onto him and hid against his shoulder.

"Cid," Vincent sighed and pulled back up to rest on his arms. "Stop it. I hate it when you get like that. It puts a wrinkle in between your eyebrows that screams frown, and does a rather good job at convincing me that I cannot do anything right." He brushed the backs of his fingers over Cid's cheek. "I'm sorry if I came on too strong just them, but you do something to me that I cannot, for the life of me, explain." He took a deep breath and kissed Cid's forehead, moving to settle to the man's side, resting his head on Cid's shoulder. "Tseng will be here soon…" he whispered.

Startled at the reprimand, feeling worse now that Vincent felt bad, and nursing a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the mention of Tseng, Cid said nothing. He started to speak, several times, but each time thought better of it before a sound could leave him. He kept still and quiet until he feared the silence would drive Vincent away. "S'me who can't do anything right, y'know that. You know that already." He turned to face Vincent, eyes solemn as his arm went around Vincent and held him tightly. "Y'can't do me no wrong 'less ya leave me."

Vincent opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a sharp knock on Cid's front door as though to mention the man was to manifest him. It was so sudden, and so loud, that he actually cringed and clung closer to Cid, wrapping his arm around the man's chest and holding on. They both lay there, unmoving, breaths held, until the knock came again and Vincent let loose a soft sound of defeat, wilting into the mattress. Where his body had been warm and relaxed a cold began to creep into his limbs and his heart actually hurt. He sat up, slumped over, and looked down at his hands where they rested in his lap. "You may want to go and let him in before Tseng decides that you need a new front door." He mumbled.

Cid nodded and stumbled his way to the bathroom, where he tugged on the horrid yellow robe. He answered the door with no mask over his unhappiness, not that Tseng would have been fooled anyway. "C'min," he muttered, gesturing at the couch. "Wait there."

Tseng's only reply was to raise an eyebrow, and move to where the cop had gestured. He tried not to look too long at the eyesore that appeared to be a robe. It was almost as bad as Aerith's lacy pink one that she had _almost_ gotten him to wear. He made a mental note _not_ to drink with that woman again. As he leaned back against the wall Highwind had pointed at, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he could just make out the pale form of his friend through the half-open door to the bedroom. Chest and shoulders bare, Vincent sat in the large bed, looking down into his lap, a resigned expression on his face, and abruptly Tseng felt awful for being the one to break up what evidently had been a very close moment between the two. He cleared his throat, causing Vincent to jerk his head up and meet his eyes. "Take your time, Vincent. We are in no hurry." He said softly, knowing Vincent would hear him just fine.

In the bedroom, Vincent snorted softly. _Take my time_, he thought. _ I don't wish to leave, but I have no choice, do I._ Slowly he slid out of bed and headed over the chair that his clothes had somehow made it to. His arms were leaden as he began to drag them on. All he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and hide under the blankets like a child. _Shit, I'm acting like a child now, sulking around because I cannot face up to my responsibilities. What's happened to me? _He thought as he dressed himself. _I used to get things done, never wasting thought on things not worth thinking about. Now, I whine and fish for excuses. It is unacceptable!_ But he looked over at Cid as the man slid his glasses on, dressed in that visual nightmare of a robe that made the poor man look like a great golden chocobo. He saw the slumped shoulders, the sad aura, defeated and just as resigned as he was. Finishing buttoning up his silk shirt he walked up behind Cid and slid his arms around the man's chest and rested his cheek against the side of Cid's head. "I'll be back next Friday," he whispered, burying his nose in Cid's hair and wishing what he said was true.

Cid nodded. He turned in Vincent's arms and attempted a quick, gruff sort of hug, but found that even in company he could not be satisfied with just that. He held Vincent close to him, arms around him firmly but not crushing him. His heart was breaking, or something like it. "Please," he whispered, or maybe there was no sound at all. As they pulled apart, Cid said, "I'll see ya then." To Tseng, he gave a raised eyebrow and halfhearted grin and asked, "If he needs kissin' an' I ain't around, y'll take care of 'im, right?"

Tseng returned the raised eyebrow and said wryly, "I believe, Mr. Highwind, that that is your job now. He will just have to wait."

Vincent snorted and shrugged on his coat as the weight of responsibility settled back upon his shoulders with sobering familiarity, dissolving the dreamlike quality of the past two days. He looked at Tseng and said, "No offense old friend, but I would rather kiss a Bandersnatch." He looked at Cid, and felt a stirring in his heart, one that was beginning to become welcome. He settled his coat onto his shoulders and replaced his fedora. He looked at Cid for a moment before he said, somewhat awkwardly, given the present company. "Thank you," he swallowed and looked down, slightly embarrassed, but no less honest. "For everything."

"Thank you," Cid replied, and reached up to touch Vincent's face. The tape on his glasses was making his nose itch, but he ignored it. Instead, he stretched up far enough to kiss Vincent in a way that was both intimate and decent enough to be seen by other people. Not that Tseng was really 'other people'. He was actually quite crucial to Vincent's existence, now that Cid thought about it. And that made him more like a part of the background of Vincent's life, which meant Cid could do whatever the hell he pleased in front of him. Mostly. To find out for sure, when they broke apart short moments later and Cid returned to his resting height, he caught Tseng's eye again and reached around to grab Vincent's ass with both hands and squeeze. "If 'e _does_ go off kissin' Bandersnatches…well, you'll send 'im this way b'fore it gets t'that point, wontcha?"

Both of Tseng's eyebrows rose as he watched Cid most inappropriately grab his friend's backside. What stayed his tongue, and kindled a mischievous gleam in his black eyes was his friend's indignant, but not entirely displeased spluttering the action had caused. Fighting a grin, he said, "And the difference between you and a Bandersnatch would be?"

"Mostly I got less hair," Cid said nonchalantly, "an' sometimes I smell a little better'n they do. Ain't no question I'm a better kisser, what with they ain't even got lips." His hands had migrated to Vincent's hips and were resting there, thumbs stroking. "An' if I owned anything, I'd bet all of it on th'fact that I'm better in bed. But if y're anything like me, y'really don't wanna think about that too much 'cause some things is just goin' too damn far. Good enough?" he asked, grinning at Tseng but winking at Vincent.

Vincent blinked, his mouth falling open. _How dare they!_ He was about ready to speak when Tseng beat him to it.

"Bandersnatches are notorious for carrying fleas, Mr. Highwind." Tseng said seriously. "If you are going to mate with Vincent I would hope that you would have taken care of that problem beforehand. He gets horribly cranky when he itches."

Vincent's eyes widened as he openly gaped at his friend. Again, he was about to reply when Cid beat him to it this time.

Cid clapped a hand to his forehead theatrically and said, "Dammit, I plumb fergot! Well, he's your problem now, yeah? F'e gets cranky later I won't hafta deal with it." Cid had never noticed before what hilarious faces Vincent was capable of making.

"_What-_?"

Tseng shook his head, thoroughly enjoying himself. "Mr. Highwind, I'm most displeased. If I have to cut his hair because of his scratching-"

"Then he'll be right pissed at both us, won't 'e? Heh, sorta like 'e is now? But hair grows back. Eh, Vincent, y'wouldn't look half bad with short hair, really," Cid said offhandedly, looking Vincent up and down and nodding. "Maybe a little goofy, though. Whatcha think?" he asked Tseng. "Chop it off just in case? I'll hold 'im still for ya."

Vincent's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You will do no such thi-"

"Mm, tempting offer." Tseng interrupted, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he appraised Vincent's hair. "But I think I rather like his hair long, though it makes him look a little effeminate."

Cid followed Tseng's gaze and found that they disagreed on this. "Nah, if y'dressed 'im up in a leather jacket and cover 'is arms wi'some tats, he'd make a damned intimidatin' biker, dontcha think?" He grinned and placed a finger over Vincent's lips, silencing the already silent splutters. "Plus, if 'e cut it short, it'd be damn hard fer me t'pull it like he likes, yeah?" he finished with a hugely exaggerated wink.

"Okay that's it." Vincent growled, fisting his hand in the front of Tseng's shirt and dragging the man up to where he was nearly nose-to-nose with him. The fact that Tseng was actually _grinning_ only fueled his temper. "_You_, be silent." He looked over at Cid warningly. "And _you_, do not encourage him."

Cid simply made puppy eyes at Vincent and asked solemnly, "Don't y'want yer man an' yer best buddy t'get along, Vincent?" He snickered. "Th'way y're actin', anybody'd think me an' him was talkin' about you right in front o' yer face 'r somethin'! Ain't it a shame 'e gets so upset?" Cid made a valiant attempt to extricate Vincent's hand from the material of Tseng's shirt, and when he succeeded, he tugged the other man to him by the waist and tossed an arm around his shoulders. "'Sides, y'know y'love th'hell out of 'im. Might as well have two, right?" He released Tseng's shoulders and punched him in the arm lightly, resisting the urge to add "I tapped that" to the grin he sent in Vincent's direction. The grin faded when he remembered quite suddenly why Tseng was here, and he put an arm around each of them again and began walking them to the door. "Y'know if y'don't get goin' I'll find a way t'keep 'im here another day," he told Tseng quietly, "an' while I'd be perfectly happy t'keep th'both of ya here forever, th'world ain't gonna quit turnin', right? Some things gotta be done." He sighed, released Tseng again, and put both arms around Vincent's neck. "Be careful. R'member I love ya."

"I'll remember." Vincent whispered so only Cid could hear as he slid his arms around Cid's waist briefly. The man could piss him off with unprecedented skill and then in the next sentence just as quickly defuse him. Small wonder he always left Cid's apartment emotionally drained. He had a feeling it would continue to be a source of puzzlement for quite a long time.

Tseng politely averted his eyes, moved. Vincent had been right. No one could possibly be _that _compassionate, and yet here he was, witnessing it firsthand. How Cid had survived he didn't know, but somehow the man had. It was almost as if he were put on the planet, created _just_ for Vincent. To save him. At that moment, Tseng felt a new respect for Cid begin to grow. When a minute had passed he put his hand gently on Vincent's shoulder, taking note of how Vincent flinched, and once again felt a stab of guilt for taking him away from this. "It's time, Vincent."

Vincent nodded and pulled back. Clearing his throat, he straightened his jacket once again, and followed Tseng out the door and down the stairs. But each step he took grew harder and harder to take until a rather substantial distance had lengthened between he and Tseng. He couldn't leave like this, something was…missing. "Wait a moment, Tseng." Vincent said softly, and when his second turned to face him, said, "Just wait here a moment, I'll be right back."

When Tseng nodded, a frown of inquiry pulling his brows down, Vincent nodded once and retraced his steps, taking them two at a time and growing lighter with each set that passed. When he got to Cid's door, he flung it open and strode right up to the startled man, grabbed the cop's face and crushed his lips down onto Cid's. He poured every pent up feeling into that kiss that he could and when they broke apart he pressed his cheek against Cid's so that his mouth was right by the other's ear. Softly, raggedly, he said in Wutainese, "_I'm sorry that I have not the courage to say this in a language that you can understand. I do not know how you have done it, but you have come to mean the world to me, and I have not the knowledge of how I have survived without you. I love you, Cid Highwind…I love you._" He waited a heartbeat longer before he pulled away, and without looking at Cid, turned and retraced his steps back to Tseng, pulling out his dark glasses and placing them on his face as he did so. The weight was still there, but he felt a little better, and he could make his legs move more willingly.

When the two men got outside, Tseng reached the waiting car first, opening the door as he did so, Vincent walked up to him asking, "Is everything in place?"

"Yes, sir." Tseng replied solemnly, slipping back into his familiar role.

Placing a hand on the open door, Vincent looked back over his shoulder and up at Cid's window briefly, before he got into the car and Tseng shut the door behind him.

Tseng, in turn took a moment to follow Vincent's gaze to the window in question where he saw the curtain pulled back a little as though someone where looking out. He placed the first two fingers of his right hand over the tattooed bindi on his forehead and bowed low at the waist. For the first time in fourteen years, he had seen a glimmer of life in Vincent's eyes, a desperate gasp of the vitality of his childhood friend. For that, Tseng owed Cid more than the man would ever know.

Cid had been heading to the window to watch them leave when Vincent had burst back inside, and for a moment Cid let himself believe that he would stay. The desperation in the kiss and the unfamiliar words told him otherwise, but he was grateful for them nonetheless. Someday, maybe, he would ask Vincent what was said, but for now he was content to hear the affection in them and guess at their meanings. When he did make it to the window, it was just in time to see Vincent turn back to him. _Shouldn'ta looked back_, Cid thought dully, inexplicably. He was so focused upon Vincent that he hardly noticed Tseng's parting gesture. Clueless as to how to return it, he merely nodded, registering moments later that he could have stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes or made obscene gestures and neither of them would have been able to see anyway. When the vehicle was out of sight, Cid sighed heavily and retreated to the couch, flipping on the television and curling up with the blanket tossed over the arm.

In the car, on their way back to the ShinRa tower, Vincent sat looking sightlessly out the window as the buildings flashed by. "Are we doing anything with that warehouse in Edge, Tseng?" He asked suddenly.

"I don't believe so, sir, why?" Tseng replied flicking his eyes up into the rearview mirror to glance at Vincent.

"We are now."

"Care to elaborate on that, sir?"

"Cid is going to build a biplane. Please see to it that he has the funds, space, parts and help that is necessary to complete his task." Vincent said softly. "And that he gets his pilot's license."

"Vincent, you're speaking as though you do not plan to be around to see to this yourself," Tseng said warily.

Vincent smiled wanly. "My apologies, Tseng, if I implied that I would not be. But you know as well as I do about the world that we live in. Anything could happen at any time, and I want Cid to realize his dream if something were to happen to me. Promise me that you will see to it."

Tseng was silent a moment before he said solemnly, "I promise, Vincent."

"Good." Vincent said, feeling an unexpected weight lift off of his chest. "Good."

They rode the rest of the way back in silence, and when Tseng parked the car and they got out, Vincent said softly, "Go on ahead, Tseng, I need to think for a little while."

Tseng hesitated before nodding and entering the Tower. Vincent took his time, stopping by the giant, ornate fountain in the lobby and staring at the falling water. He reflected upon the last two days, and the emotional rollercoaster he had ridden with Cid and realized that much of what had been said and done had made very little sense to him. His behavior had been random, oftentimes irrational, and most of the time agonizingly volatile. Sephiroth had visited him in the waking-world, had threatened him with the loss of everything he had loved and yet when Cid had gone out alone had left the man unmolested and he didn't know why, which confused him even more. But through it all, at the core of it, he had felt…as though he belonged with Cid.

He rubbed his eyes, feeling a headache beginning just behind them. He needed to leave what had transpired between himself and Cid behind him and see to what had to be done now if he was to successfully separate from Rufus and take the man down. All the necessary legal documents had been collected and the witness, Priscilla –whom he had taken great pains to hide from ShinRa- had been notified of her upcoming testimony. But most importantly the document he had taken great pains in preparing (and having Rufus sign), dictating that in the event something should happen to Rufus, then he would assume full control of all of the assets associated with and including ownership of ShinRa Pharmaceuticals, was safely hidden away in his private safe.

Vincent shook his head. He needed to clear it before Monday, when all of his carefully laid plans would be put into motion. With a last glance at the fountain and a sigh he turned to the large bank of elevators at the end of the lobby and began his assent to the 34th floor, watching the skyline from inside the glass-walled tube, his mind blank. With a 'ding' the door opened and he exited, following the hallway toward his office when someone called his name. With a raised brow he swung around to face the speaker, and that was when the world stopped turning.

There was a sudden, loud 'bang', and something hit his chest with enough force to send him stumbling back several steps. Startled, Vincent looked down and watched a wet, red fluid begin to saturate the fabric covering his heart. Confused, he touched it with trembling fingers, bringing them up to eye level, and as soon as he identified the mysterious fluid as blood, the pain hit him with the force of a battering ram. "What?" he gasped, looking up into Rufus's blue eyes as his legs buckled and he fell to his knees as though all his strength were pumping out of the hole in his chest with each weakening heartbeat. He fell forward onto an arm as he struggled to breathe, but his lungs wouldn't work. Wincing, he rolled over onto his back, just managing to take short shallow breaths, each one burning like the very fires of hell. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough, as he struggled to clear his vision as it swam and began to darken. The precious gasps began to gurgle as his lungs started to fill with blood. _Cid! _His mind screamed as the panic grew to a tempestuous level, _Cid, help me! Don't let me die!_

And then a detached calm fell over him, a calm much like the one he had felt in Cid's apartment. He was dying, he knew it, and with that realization the fear evaporated. His lips were tingling, as his breaths became further and further apart. He couldn't feel anything below his chest as he stared dully at the ceiling. Funny how he had never noticed that burned-out lightbulb before and the water stain next to it…

"It's over, Vincent." Rufus sneered, coming to stand over his body, looking down at him with such hate in his cold eyes. In Rufus's hand was a gun. "You've played me for the last time. They said to wait, but they'll just have to deal with it. I hate you. I've always hated you, from the first moment I saw you and enslaved you with the mako." He nudged Vincent's limp body with a white-shoed toe. "I've thought of so many different ways to kill you. And now, it's done. I'll strip your dead body and display it for all of your 'allies' so they'll know who to really fear." Rufus raised the gun and leveled it at his head. "Goodbye, you worthless whore…"

Vincent stared dumbly at the barrel and when the shot was fired it wasn't from Rufus's weapon. Instead the man disappeared from his darkening vision to be replaced by someone else. Someone he knew. Someone he trusted. "You…" he wheezed before his vision failed completely. As the darkness swallowed him, he heard a baby crying in the distance, and his last thoughts were: _I'll fly with you, Cid…I'll fly…with…you…_


	38. Chapter 38

Violence/gore warning for this chapter: character death and graphic descriptions of it.

* * *

"Aw man, I'm bored," Reno sighed staring at the ceiling of The Squat from where he lay on the worn couch. There was nothing good on TV and he didn't want to go home. He put his hands behind his head and thought about the latest computer program he was writing. He wanted to surprise Vincent with it, but one set of algorithms were giving him the shits and he couldn't quite figure out where the problem was. Maybe if he re-coded the command for the-

A loud, vibrating echo caused the redhead to sit bolt upright. _That sounded like a gunshot!_ ShinRa never allowed weapons to be discharged in the building, so why was he hearing one now? A second gunshot had him leaping off of the couch and hitting the door at a run, drawing his own sidearm as he did so. Racing down the hall, he rounded a corner and came to a screeching halt as he came face to face with a scene from his worst nightmare. Vincent was sprawled on the ground in a slowly growing pool of blood with Rude and Tseng standing over him.

"Boss, no!" He shouted, bolting forward without thought and falling to his knees in the blood as Rude joined him on the other side of Vincent's body. "Oh shit, there's so much blood, man!" He said, edging closer to panic. "What do I do?" Reno asked, in such a rush that all the words meshed together. He looked up at his partner, face pale and eyes glassy and full of fear.

As Tseng flipped open his phone and called the emergency medical units, Rude grabbed his hand and put it over the wound that was slowly oozing blood with a strange rhythm that could only be what was left of a heartbeat. "Press here," the big man said as he leaned down over Vincent's face. "He's not breathing." Rude said, moving his hand to Vincent's neck. "No pulse," he muttered and positioned himself to begin chest compressions. Rude looked at Reno, "Don't let up on the pressure over that hole, Reno, whatever you do."

"Is he gonna make it?" Reno asked looking back and forth between his partner and Tseng who was pale-faced, his black eyes hooded and unreadable.

Rude shook his head as he began, muttering, "One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand, four-one-thousand, five-one-thousand, breathe." And switching positions to pinch Vincent's nose and cover his boss's mouth with his own in an artificial breath before moving back to the chest compressions.

Reno began to sweat, wiping an eye on his shoulder when it began to burn when sweat rolled down into it. "C'mon boss! Don't you die on us!" he said, watching Vincent's ashen face and blue lips. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!"

In the background he could hear Tseng's calm voice talking to the medical response team, "There's been a shooting at the ShinRa Tower, two males down, mid-thirties, in need of immediate medical assistance…" He couldn't understand how Tseng could be so calm at a time like this!

"_What the fuck_?" came a rather loud, rough voice from the other end of the hallway.

Reno looked up in time to see Verdot walk over to Rufus who was slowly trying to drag himself back to his office. With a savage kick, he flipped Rufus over onto his back and got down onto his knees, straddling the man. Verdot fisted his hands in Rufus' shirt and yanked ShinRa up to spit into his face and say, "You rotten piece of stinkin' shit. You've gone too far and now you're gonna collect what you've earned." Dropping Rufus, Verdot then began beating him until blood splattered his shirt and Rufus's face was nearly unrecognizable. Panting, he stopped when Rufus quit struggling to get away, and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a knife. He then forced Rufus's mouth open, grabbing the man's tongue and with a quick jerk of his knife severed the muscle from Rufus's mouth while Rufus screamed. "He's not your whore anymore." Verdot said brokenly, and spat on what was left of ShinRa's face.

Reno looked at Verdot, torn between horrified and awed, until Rude captured his attention once again: "Don't let up Reno!"

"Right, right!" he said quickly, pressing down harder on Vincent's chest, only to jump when what sounded like a strange wheezing moan escaped from his boss's throat. "What th-!"

"Reno!"

"Sorry!" he apologized, hastily reapplying the pressure. "Where are those paramedics, Tseng?" Reno shouted desperately.

"They're on their way," Tseng said quietly heading to the elevators.

"Where th' hell're you goin'?" the redhead shouted, earning a glare from Rude.

"The lobby, Reno, someone needs to meet them and show them where to go." Tseng replied calmly as the doors slid open. He met Reno's terrified gaze. "Just listen to Rude, I'll be right back." The doors slid shut with a soft 'thud'.

There was a watery gurgling coming from Rufus and Rude growled, never changing the rhythm of his CPR, "Would someone please shut him up?"

"With pleasure." Verdot sneered. Pulling out his gun, he walked over to ShinRa and shot the man in the forehead, instantly silencing the sounds. "Better?"

"Much," Rude said, an evil smile on his face.

They waited for what Reno thought was an easy hour, which turned out to be closer to eight minutes. A 'ding' commanded their attention as the emergency medical response team spilled out of the elevator, complete with wheeled gurney. Gently pushing Rude and Reno out of the way, one of them said, "We'll take it from here, sir."

While the one who spoke began unwrapping packages and readying a portable defibrillator, the other began to cut open Vincent's shirt and check for vital signs. "I have no pulse."

The one manning the defibrillator adjusted a dial, and flipped a switch. "Charging, get the bag ready." There was a high pitched whining sound as the machine charged and he grabbed the paddles. The other paramedic tore open packages of thick gauze that he placed over the wound before reaching for a heavy plastic bag with a mask to cover mouth and nose. "Ready!" He said, placing it over Vincent's face.

"Clear!" The other paramedic shouted, and placed both paddles on Vincent's chest and discharged the electric pulse, causing Vincent's body to jerk. The one holding the bag squeezed it and checked for a pulse. He shook his head, "Nothing. Again!"

"Charging!" He looked up at Tseng, "What about the other?"

Tseng looked over at what was left of Rufus ShinRa, then back at the paramedic. "He's dead."

The paramedic nodded. "Clear!" and thumped Vincent's body again.

"I've got a pulse!" The other shouted and they flew into motion, lifting Vincent's body onto the gurney after securing the neck brace, and running him to the elevator. Tseng squeezed into the elevator after first tossing the keys to Rude and saying, "Follow us…Minerva Memorial Hospital." The doors slid shut and on the ride down, one paramedic began preparing an infuse of lactated Ringer's solution while the other continued to operate the artificial respiration. Once down, Tseng directed them out the front doors and climbed into the transport behind them. As they sped to the hospital he looked down at the lifeless face of his best friend. "Hold on, Vincent." Then he pictured Cid's face and the adoration he had seen written plainly upon it every time he had looked at his 'brother'. "Hold on!" As the paramedics called in stats and requested preparations be made for the receipt of yet another gunshot victim.

When they arrived at the hospital and the transport doors were wrenched open, Tseng flung himself out of the way and the paramedic team ran Vincent into the emergency room. He followed close behind and no one stopped him.

"Over here! We have Room 4 set up…"

"BP 48 over 24…"

"Get his clothes off…"

"I need that shot of atropine…"

"…Difficulty breathing, grab that trach tube…"

"Estimated time of injury, approximately one hour ago…"

"Jessie, take his blood. We need to check his levels…"

"We're losing him, we're losing him!"

"Sir? Sir! Do you know what blood type he is?" Tseng shook his head, clearing it, as a nurse rushed up to him.

"Uh," Tseng thought fast. "He's type A."

The nurse nodded and scurried off. She came back quickly with three bags of blood and one of plasma, and they started an intravenous line immediately. It was chaos. There was no other way to describe the activity. But it was a _controlled_ chaos. Everyone knew his job and moved around the others in perfect synchronicity. Suddenly the beeping that he hadn't noticed before changed into a flat, steady tone.

"He crashing!"

One of the ER nurses rolled a cart up immediately and Tseng recognized the defibrillator. Another nurse grabbed the paddles. "Clear!" There was a deep thumping sound as the current was discharged once again into Vincent's body, making it seize briefly.

"No response! Again!"

A pause as the machine charged. "Clear!" Again, there was no response. They thumped him four more times without change before the attending doctor put out his hand and stopped the movement, shaking his head, and immediately all activity stilled. He pulled his face mask down, looked at the clock, "Time of death, 1:43 pm," and began cleaning up the mess they had made.

Tseng felt all color drain from his face and he suddenly felt lightheaded and chilled. They were giving up? He wanted to shout at them but his vocal cords were frozen. He wanted to run to Vincent's side and continue CPR himself, but his limbs were leaden. All he could do was look at his friend, his _brother_, lying there in a mess of coiled tubes and blood-soaked gauze, a length of plastic tubing down his throat, face paler than paper that was slowly turning the gray of death. Vincent's lips here blue and hung open, his jaw slack. His eyes, those striking red eyes were half-open, glazed and sunken deep into his head. His body, so thin and brittle-looking was coated and streaked with drying blood. Tseng was having difficulty breathing, as a lost sort of panic began to rise. What was he going to do? Vincent had been his whole world. He had _just _found the man, only to lose him so soon! And then it hit him.

He had failed.

He had taken it upon himself to protect Vincent. A man who, despite his hard exterior and critical mentality, was so fragile. Just as he had always been in life. If he had just waited and walked up with Vincent, it would be _him_ on that table, having died doing what he had sworn to himself to do, what any _one_ of them would have done.

"No!" someone shouted, and he jerked his head up to see a young nurse, the one who had taken Vincent's blood only minutes before…Jessie?…move back to the defibrillator and turn the dial up as far it would go.

"Jessie," someone else sighed in exasperation. "He's gone, let it go."

"No," she reiterated while the defibrillator charged. "Dyne, help me! Get on the bag. We've lost too many, and I can't do it anymore. We always just give up. Well, I won't lose this one! I won't!" And when the defibrillator signaled its charge, she yelled, "Clear!" and thumped Vincent yet again. The other, Dyne, worked the bag, pumping air back into Vincent's reluctant lungs while the defibrillator charged yet again. "Clear!" Over and over she thumped him, and when that didn't work she set to manual chest compressions, her young, pretty face set in grim determination. Every time someone tried to stop her, she would shrug them off and Tseng found himself chanting in a whisper, "Come on, Vincent, come on…come on, come on, come on…" He noticed that he wasn't the only one staring fixedly. Several nurses were leaning forward as though _willing_ life into Vincent and he noticed the mask shifting on another as her lips moved as though in a strange prayer.

"Unbelievable!" Dyne whispered from where he stood at Vincent's head. "Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait!" he yelled and everyone stilled immediately. "I've got a pulse!" he shouted, and everyone flew back into motion.

It was at that instant that someone grabbed Tseng's shoulder and began to pull him out of the emergency room. He tried to fight them, not wanting to leave Vincent's side, but their grip was like steel and he was too drained to put up much resistance. "Sir," the woman said in his ear and he turned his head, ripping his eyes off of Vincent to see one of the nurses tugging on his arm frantically. "Sir, you can't be here. Let us do our job and please move to the waiting room. The doctor will speak with you as soon as he can, okay?"

Dumbly, Tseng nodded and drifted down the hall and into the waiting room. He was the only one there, mercifully, and he just stood in the middle of the room feeling lost and in shock. He needed to talk to someone, but no one was there. Wait, he had his phone. He pulled it out and with trembling fingers dialed a number he had committed to heart. When the other person picked up, he finally felt the adrenaline of the last couple of hours wear off and he began to shake, teeth chattering. "Aerith?"

She had picked up as soon as she'd seen the number, pleased and surprised to hear from him. "Hey! You just caught me at lunch. Wanna…" she was in the middle of asking him to join her when she registered his tone. Frowning, Aerith asked, "Is something wrong? Are you sick? Don't sound so good…"

Sitting down rather heavily, he said shakily, "Aerith? I don't…I don't know what to do."

Her frown deepened, and she wiped her mouth with her napkin, sitting back in her chair. "Well, I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong." Others might consider her words harsh, but she was only telling the truth.

His vision focused abruptly at her impatient tone. "He's going to die, Aerith. Vincent was shot, and he is going to die. One would think you would be a little more supportive. That man is the closest thing I have to a brother," he growled.

"Well, how was I supposed to know- " she broke off, sighing. "Look, I'm sorry…you're right. Would you like me to take the afternoon off and come down so you aren't alone, or do you want to be with him?" She could understand Tseng's pain in some dim way, but her life had made her nearly as much a statue as Vincent's had made him. There was pain everywhere, all around, and living with that had inured her to its effects. As such, the deeper cuts always took her by surprise, and she often forgot that others dealt with them differently than she. "I'd like to stay with you, if I haven't offended you too much already. Oh, Tseng…Cid," she whispered as she remembered why she even knew this man.

Tseng dropped his head into hand at Aerith's contrite apology. "It's okay, it's just…Aerith, I don't know what to do. It should have been me! I was supposed to protect him, and I didn't. It should have been me." He was so tired. "I…I think I need you," he said softly, still very much unaccustomed to feeling the way he did towards another. "Look, the others should be here soon, and I need to fill out paperwork for…" he couldn't finish, it just hurt too much. "I just…I have to go. I'll talk to you later, all right? And I'll…I'll call Mr. Highwind, I owe him that much." _That_ was a phone call he was _not_ looking forward to making.

"Now stop that," she said softly. "You know he would feel the way you do now if it had been you, and you're miserable. Would you really wish that on him?" She winced. This was not going well. She'd never been a good over-the-phone conversationalist. "Where are you? I'll be right over as soon as I can. You know Cid's going to drop everything and rush over without even finding out where you are or what happened, right?" Maybe she'd wait a while and pick him up on the way. It would be faster than letting him walk, not that he'd be content to move so slowly. "Do you think I should wait for him?"

"But I would be fulfilling a promise. Death would be an honor, not a waste like this…" Motion caught his attention and he looked up to see the other three come striding into the hospital. Both Reno and Verdot were covered in blood, but from very different sources. All looked drawn and apprehensive. He waved them over. "We're at Minerva Memorial Hospital. You do what you feel you have to. I'll see you soon," he ended in a whisper and gently clicked the phone shut.

She bit her lip and closed her phone after hearing the line go dead. He was really in bad shape, and she'd managed to make it worse instead of keeping him strong. Maybe, sometimes, even Tseng needed to be comforted. For a brief moment, she thought of him as weak, and was then disgusted with herself. He wasn't weak, only human, as was she…and she should be there for him. She would be, she decided, nodding firmly at a nearby plant. She wasn't hungry anymore, so she dumped the rest of her lunch and marched purposefully up to Palmer's office.

* * *

Hang in there, guys! Regular update next Friday.


	39. Chapter 39

With a sigh, Tseng looked up at the others.

"How is he?" Reno asked, looking around nervously.

Before he could answer, a voice came over the overhead speakers: "Dr. Bugenhagen to Emergency Room 4, STAT; Dr. Bugenhagen to Emergency Room 4, STAT." Well, he was still alive anyway.

Tseng looked at Reno. "He's still alive. And that's pretty much all I know." He looked around at the other men. "We're either in for a long haul or a short wait, you all should go home and try and get some sleep, change your clothes-"

"The fuck we are!" Verdot said taking a step closer. "I ain't leavin' him, and you quit talkin' about him dyin'. He's the toughest sonofabitch I've ever known and he'll make it."

Not wanting to argue, Tseng just nodded. "Then try and get some rest here then-"

"Are you two gentlemen all right?" A resident asked Verdot and Reno, looking questioningly at the blood covering their clothes and hands.

"Yeah," Reno said sheepishly, and before Verdot could snap at the poor man only doing his job, Tseng interjected, "They're with me, and we're with the…gunshot victim in ER room 4."

The resident paled, swallowed and nodded. "Just let us know if you need anything. The coffee and vending machines are down the hall, and the restrooms are just before that on your right," he instructed, and then headed down the aforementioned hallway.

"I'm goin' for coffee, y'all want something'?" Reno asked, heading in the direction indicated. He shrugged when the only answers were headshakes in the negative.

Rude nodded at Tseng. "You all right?"

"Yes," Tseng said rubbing the back of his head and staring reluctantly own at his phone. "I just have a phone call to make."

Rude nodded and took a seat on the other side of the waiting room while Verdot stood staring sightlessly at the television suspended in the corner. With a sigh, Tseng dialed Cid's number.

Cid had succeeded in making an edible lunch and was actually feeling somewhat okay when his phone rang. He narrowed his eyes at it, having no idea who would be calling him. He brightened; maybe Vincent? But the number didn't register as a known one, and Cid wasn't quite sure who it was…but then he recognized some of the digits from the time he'd called Tseng from Vincent's phone. Smile still in place, he asked, "Vincent?" cautiously, wondering why he wasn't calling from his own phone.

Tseng tried to answer immediately, but his voice got stuck in his throat. He cleared it, and said, "No, Cid. It's Tseng."

Confused now and somewhat unnerved, Cid said simply, "Oh." He waited a moment, and when Tseng didn't speak again, he prodded, "So…what, uh, what's up?" even as his heart began beating faster with the certain knowledge that something was not right.

Somehow, Tseng managed to keep his voice calm and even. "There's been an accident, Cid. Vincent has been shot. We're at Minerva Memorial Hospital, and I really think you should be here." _Because I don't know how much time he has left_, went unsaid.

"Wh- Don't joke about that. It'd be one thing if…you ain't jokin'," he realized suddenly. "What…no. Just no. Not Vincent. Not now." He told himself not to panic, and that pleading with Tseng would not change anything. There was only one thing to do, and that was to get his ass to the hospital immediately. "Oh, god…" Cid felt sick to his stomach as another realization hit him- it must be very serious indeed if Vincent had needed a hospital. He swallowed against the nausea and said, "I'll be there. I'll be right there."

"Calm down, Cid. There's nothing you can do, and getting yourself killed by rushing won't help the situation. Please, try to calm down," Tseng said, concerned and yet sympathetic to the tone of the cop's voice.

"No. No, I gotta get there. Tell 'im I'll be there." He hung up and darted to his room, then wandered, lost, as he tried to remember why he had done so. The yellow robe he was still wearing caught his eye, and he nodded and went to the dresser, nervously running a hand through his hair as he pulled out clothes like a man possessed, with no idea of what he was looking for. Eventually he noticed that he was doing nothing but rooting through clothes and wasting time, so he grabbed the nearest shirt and pair of pants he could find, put them on, and headed for the lobby. Halfway through the parking lot, he met Aerith. He tried to ignore her until she took his arm and steered him in the direction of her car.

"You'll get there faster this way," she said. "Come on, Cid, we'll go see him."

He had no idea why she knew or why she was here so quickly, but she was right, and he wasn't going to argue with getting there faster.

Tseng looked at the phone until the 'off-the-hook' tone began sounding, and then flipped it shut. He sighed again and shook his head. In the just a matter of minutes, the world had stopped turning for them all.

"Excuse me, sir?"

He looked up at a receptionist standing in front of him holding a clipboard, a pen and an expression of sympathy on her middle-aged face. His nostrils flared as he restrained himself from hitting the woman. She didn't know what they were going through! With a startled blink he came back to himself and woodenly took the clipboard and pen. She didn't know, true enough, but she had her own struggles to deal with, and it wasn't her fault any of this had happened. She was trying to empathize with him. After all, how many other people had she done this with? Feeling ten times older than he was, Tseng began filling out Vincent's paperwork.

Cid was silent on the way to the hospital, but his thoughts were racing, and they were filled with Vincent. He hadn't given Tseng much of a chance to tell him how bad things were; now he almost wished he had. When they were finding a parking space and the restlessness was taking over him again, he asked quietly, "Aer, how bad is 'e?"

She didn't answer right away, saying instead, "Oh, look, there's a spot."

"Aerith?"

"I'm not sure, Cid," she lied. "Tseng didn't say."

Cid nodded and tried to find some hope in her words; he half-believed them, and that wasn't enough.

They parked, and she led the way into the building. At the counter, she asked where they could find Vincent, and the attendant shook her head and told them they'd have to wait with everyone else. Aerith tried to probe for information, but that didn't work nearly as well with women as it did with men, she found. Instead, she settled for being directed to the waiting room where "everyone else" supposedly was.

Enough time had passed before Tseng looked up and saw Aerith and an extremely worried Cid come striding toward them that Reno had drained his coffee, ceased pacing and was now agitatedly flipping though magazines. Neither Rude nor Verdot had moved from his respective position, and Tseng was, quite frankly, glad for the distraction. He smiled slightly, standing as the two walked toward him. Embracing Aerith briefly, he addressed them both. "He's alive," he said tiredly, running a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. "That's all I can tell you. A doctor hasn't been out to speak with us yet, but I assume he's in surgery now."

"So I can't see 'im?" Cid asked, dully receiving the point of all of this. "An' he's not okay, an' there's no guarantees, an'-" suddenly he took in the sight of the others, particularly Reno. "Geez, kid, what happened t'you?" Eyes wide, he realized that he really had no idea what had happened at all. He sat, unthinking, in the seat Tseng had just vacated, and put his head in his hands. After a few calming breaths, he looked up, sobered and nearly relaxed. "Tell us what happened," he demanded. Not like there was anything better to do than listen.

Aerith took Tseng's hand and sat beside Cid, tugging Tseng with her and encouraging him to sit on her other side.

Tseng took a deep breath and let it out slowly, running his hand through his hair again. "I-I don't know what happened…exactly. I parked the car and he told me to go on up, and I did. I had some business to attend to and stepped into my office and the next thing I know there was a gunshot. I ran out into the hall and down towards where I heard it and then saw Vincent lying on the ground and Rufus lying on the ground. My first thought was to call the emergency medical response units and was starting to do that when Rude came up and asked me what had happened. I can only assume that Rufus had shot Vincent, as he was still clutching his weapon, but who shot Rufus…" he shrugged helplessly. "…I haven't a clue. Vincent was unarmed."

Reno, who had been listening intently to Tseng said, "This ain't mine." He plucked at the blood staining his white shirt. "I've never seen so much, yo. Never knew someone could bleed like that." He shuddered and tucked his hands under his armpits. "All I knew was that we had to stop it…I tried man, I really tried!" He looked up at Tseng.

"I know, Reno. We all did." Tseng said, nodding at the younger man.

His questions were mostly still unanswered. But Rufus had shot Vincent, and then someone had shot Rufus… "Is 'e dead? Shinra?" Cid asked intensely, fully intending to see it done before the day was over if Tseng answered in the negative.

Tseng nodded, but Verdot was the one who answered, snapping out of the trance he had seemed to be in as he stared at the television. "You bet yer ass 'e is. Cut that motherfucker's tongue right out and put a bullet in his brain myself."

"Verdot," Tseng said quietly, but harshly. "I would suggest you not reveal that information so readily."

Verdot eyed Tseng a moment, as though contemplating challenging the Wutaian for position, but averted his eyes in the end and nodded. "Yes, sir."

A little disturbed, Cid nodded slowly and began looking around. "So…how long, d'ya think, 'til we hear somethin'?" He wrapped his arms around himself, wishing they were Vincent's and that he and Vincent were waiting in the hospital for anyone else, anyone but Vincent.

Tseng shook his head. "I don't know, Cid." He put his hand on Cid's shoulder. "I don't know."

Cid nodded absently, then stood. "M'goin' fer a walk. I swear, if somebody don't call me as soon as they come out with some news, I'll never fergive any of ya," he said fiercely, glaring at them.

Tseng felt a small spike of fear at that and before he could stop himself he reached out and wrapped his fingers around Cid's wrist. If Vincent died and Cid was not here, the man would never forgive himself. "I can't stop you, Cid. But I would strongly recommend you not leave."

He was tempted to stay, but this place, the atmosphere, and the knowledge that several pairs of eyes were on him were suffocating him. He removed Tseng's hand from his wrist carefully and squeezed it in both of his, sad, tired eyes meeting a pair that matched his feelings exactly. "You said yerself there was nothin' I c'd do here. I'll be right back, just…gotta breathe. I ain't goin' far."

Tseng nodded and leaned into Aerith. He didn't want to talk anymore anyway.

Cid let go of Tseng's hand with a final pat and sighed, turning to leave. The moment he was outside, he leaned back against the wall and brought both hands up to grip his hair. A few more deep breaths and he was on his way, no clear destination in mind until he saw a brightly colored room through the glass doors. At first he thought it must be a children's ward of some kind, but then he read the sign and realized that he was staring into the gift shop. He entered the building and then the correct room and found himself face-to-face with bouquets of candy…and several large stuffed animals. He blinked once, then checked his wallet. There was enough there for one of them, and he set about selecting the perfect one from the shelf. There were chocobos –too fluffy- moogles –too childish- tonberries –creepy buggers- and, the last of its kind on the shelf, a solitary bandersnatch. The choice was easily made, and he scooped the rather offensive-looking creature up and headed for the counter. He felt much better as he started back for the waiting room, and he hardly noticed that he was hugging the newly purchased animal the entire way back.

Everyone was silent, exhausted and lost in their own thoughts. Verdot was watching television again, Rude had actually sat down and apparently didn't mind when Reno had crashed and put his feet onto his lap, and the poor redhead had finally passed out, his blood splattered coat wadded up under his head. Aerith hadn't asked him any more questions and sat quietly with him, holding his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. He grinned a little when he saw Cid returning, clutching a stuffed bandersnatch in his arms. Now that he thought about it, how could one _not_ love the mouthy cop with the too-big heart?

Someone clearing his throat politely made Tseng blink and look toward the sound. A tired-looking doctor dressed in blood and iodine-stained scrubs had approached them and stood waiting patiently. Upon seeing the doctor, Tseng rose to meet him. Verdot made no move from where he stood but by the tilt of his head it was obvious that he was listening to everything and Rude tapped Reno's feet and the redhead jumped awake, batting away some imaginary nuisance. When he had the attention of everyone involved, the doctor held out his hand to Tseng. "I'm Dr. Bugenhagen. Did you bring in the gunshot victim?"

Tseng nodded, shaking the doctor's hand and taking comfort in its confident, steady strength. "Yes. How is he, doctor?" He was terrified to hear the answer, but he had to know. Not knowing was far, far worse.

Dr. Bugenhagen sighed and rubbed his eyes. "He's alive. For now. His condition is extremely unstable. He's in a coma, and his lungs are not working so we have him on a ventilator. His heart is very weak, but somehow managing on its own." Blinking, Dr. Bugenhagen lowered his hand and Tseng saw the dark circles under the man's eyes for the first time. "The damage was extensive. From what I could tell, he was hit with a hollow-point bullet that exploded when it hit his sternum from such a close range. In effect, it acted like a grenade going off in his chest. Quite frankly, I'm astounded that he is even alive. There was a large tear in his right ventricle that I managed to repair, which was his most life-threatening injury, but even so the cardiopulmonary damage was…well, it was devastating. We removed as much of the bullet and bone fragments from his lungs as we could, but we didn't dare remain in his chest cavity any longer given his extremely weakened state. If he survives, and when he heals, we'll perform another surgery and remove the rest."

Tseng slumped visibly. "But he's alive."

Dr. Bugenhagen nodded. "Yes." The doctor hesitated a moment before saying. "There is something else. As we worked we noticed an advanced rate of clotting of blood, and an incredible tissue regeneration that actually made the surgery rather difficult. I've never seen anything like it before. Do you know anything about that?"

Tseng hid his reaction with practiced ease. "No, doctor, I don't. But it would seem that an anomaly like that would be beneficial."

Dr. Bugenhagen eyed Tseng a moment before he nodded. "It would, but for the fact that his body is appearing to absorb the fragments of bone and metal from the bullet, which could potentially cause problems further down the road, and certainly limit his activity level. I'd like to draw some more blood to run some tests, with your permission, since he's not able to answer for himself."

At that Tseng shook his head. "I cannot give that permission. If he survives, then you may ask him yourself, but that is not for me to say." It made him twitchy that they had taken blood from Vincent at all, given how phobic his friend was of doctors and needles altogether and, not for the first time, he wondered what had made Vincent so afraid. But now was not the time for such thoughts. He just had to keep Bugenhagen from opening any more cans of worms.

"Understood," Dr. Bugenhagen said with a little sigh. "Now, do you all have any questions for me?"

It seemed no one had any questions really worth asking apart from the obvious, so Cid asked the obvious. "Can y'say even vaguely what th'chances are?" he asked quietly, wanting something to hold onto.

"Suffice it to say, not good," Bugenhagen replied. "If his lungs begin functioning properly, he'll be in much better shape…if his heart can keep up with them."

"I don't like all this 'if'," Cid told the floor. "When c'n one of us go in an' see 'im?" Tseng would go first; Cid would make sure of that. He deserved it after giving his all and protecting Vincent for so long.

Dr. Bugenhagen shook his head. "Not for a day, at least. He's in intensive care at the moment and has to be under constant observation. He was clinically dead for nearly five minutes and given his current condition, cardiac arrest is a very real threat. Brief visitation, I think, can be permitted tomorrow, but it's my opinion that you all need to be prepared for the worst. He's not strong, even with his remarkable regenerative ability, and the fact that we can get no reaction from his lungs is not good. Does he have any next of kin? If so, you may want to contact them."

Tseng, his heart in his throat said softly, "We _are_ his next of kin, sir."

Nodding, Dr. Bugenhagen said, "I see. Well, go home and try and get some rest. You're welcome to stay here, but it's not comfortable, and there's nothing more you all can do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other patients that need attention." With a final handshake with Tseng and nod to the others, Dr. Bugenhagen took his leave.

Cid watched the doctor walk away, feeling about as happy as the bandersnatch looked. Which is to say, thoroughly miserable. He looked forlornly at Tseng, who seemed not to see him. A small smile, unsure and not at all bold, quirked up a corner of Cid's lips. He put a hand on Tseng's shoulder and said, "They don't know 'im." This earned him nothing but a quizzical glance, so he continued. "They say his heart's weak, but they don't know th'part of 'im that's stubborn as hell. I reckon me an' you're the only ones who know that, I mean really know. They got all their fancy machines an' shit, but they can't measure will, an' they can't put a number on determination, an' dammit, this makes me sound conceited, but I think he _just_ realized he's got somethin' t'live for. He ain't gonna give up now. Few weeks ago he might have, but…well, you've seen it too, aintcha? He's gonna be all right. It'll be a long road for him, an' I wonder if th'world'd be kinder t'just let 'im pass an' find that peace we always hear about, but he's gonna make it, an' he's gonna be stronger for it." Cid nodded twice, firmly, and hoped that Tseng believed his words more than he believed them himself. It was nearly six-thirty now, and Cid doubted that any of them had so much as found a vending machine. "I think we're gonna go get somethin' fer dinner. We'll bring somethin' back for ya. You stay here," he said, handing over the stuffed animal, "an' watch Domino. Take it to 'im for me if they letcha in."

He returned to the rest of them and announced that they were all eating dinner on whomever was willing to pay, which turned out to be Rude.

As the others walked away, zombie-like, toward the cafeteria, Aerith approached Tseng and slid her arms around him from behind, resting her head against his shoulder blade. "I didn't hear most of what he said, but he's right. Everything will work out." In truth, she didn't think Vincent stood much of a chance, but she wasn't going to tell Tseng that. "Let's sit back down," she murmured. "Tell me what's on your mind."

Mechanically, Tseng sat, staring down at the stuffed bandersnatch and feeling pain squeeze his heart at the memory of the conversation that they had had just that morning. He squeezed the stuffed animal in his big hands, crushing it, then eased up to rest it in his lap and pet it with the awed gentleness of a child. It really was pretty ugly, but it was perfect. Cid knew him, even though the man had known Vincent for only a painfully short amount of time, he still, somehow, knew him. Which only confirmed to Tseng, that the man had been put on the planet specifically _for_ Vincent, so if Cid felt that confident didn't it mean that it was true? He spoke words of such hope, and he wanted to believe them, _desperately_ wanted to believe them, but he had always been a realistic man, firmly grounded in the realm logical thought; that what you could see, touch, taste, hear and feel were what was real, and everything else created by the whims of the desperate. Knowledge was power, he knew this, and Vincent knew this, but he was slowly beginning to develop a new respect for the unseen. The potential. The heart. And the spirit.

"I'm lost," he said softly to Aerith, continuing to stare down at the bandersnatch.

She sat beside him and took one of his hands. "I know," she said quietly. "You've spent so much time caring for him…it's a shock when you learn that you depend on him, too. Can I help?" Aerith pulled Tseng to lean against her, and he did not resist as she tucked his head under her chin and put her arms around his shoulders. "I'm afraid I'm about as skilled as Cid when it comes to saying the right thing, but I can try my best."

Tseng took her hand and squeezed it. "I don't know that you can do or say anything at the moment, but just being here means a great deal to me. I've lived my life for him, done everything he asks of me without question or complaint. He's always had everything; he's brilliant, skilled, charismatic, had the ideal family growing up. He has _power_, Aerith, and I am deeply shamed that I have hated him for that." He sat up, but did not release her hand. "But then I step back and take a good, long look at the price for it all, and I'm so relieved that it isn't me." Tseng swallowed. "And now I have cowardice to add to my shame." He shook his head. "While we waited for you to arrive, I kept replaying what happened in my mind and I found myself wondering if I would have taken that bullet for him if I had been there. In the end, all we have is our honor, and I'm afraid that I have turned my back upon it as well."

"No one wants to die, Tseng," she told him, "and we all crave the things we hate. Isn't it safe to say that on some level, we hate the things we love?" She shook her head and continued, "You would have, you know. Taken the bullet. I could tell you that. If you had no honor, you would have run, jumped at the chance to get out from under him while he's down. And I also get the feeling that he already knows everything you've just said to me, and that he thinks no less of you for it." She squeezed back, smiling softly. "I don't know that you realize how much power you've had all these years just being that close to him. He would gladly have shared it with you had he been willing to let you suffer the cost. As you say, you know the price…and he wouldn't have let you live like that. He needed you exactly as you are, and he wouldn't fault you for your feelings. He'd worry if you didn't feel them." Despite herself, she gave a small giggle. "Funny how the 'bad guys' are so noble and the 'good guys' don't hesitate to stab each other in the backs. Family means something entirely different when you're desperate, hm?"

Tseng gave a good humored wry smile and pinched Aerith's chin in between thumb and forefinger. "We didn't used to be the "bad guys," you know. But thank you." He looked down into her luminous green eyes, marveling again at how quickly he could get lost in them. "I am going to kiss you, Ms. Gainsborough," he said by way of warning, and before she could respond, leaned forward and with exquisite gentleness captured her lips with his own. Gingerly he placed his hands to either side of her face as though he might break her at any moment. It was ridiculous, of course; she was probably tougher than he was if he had to bet on it, but that steel was hidden beneath a delicate-appearing shell, and the male in him demanded that he treat his woman with the reverence that she deserved.

Aerith was a bit caught off-guard despite his warning, but she wasn't complaining. She returned the kiss briefly, smiling as she pulled away. "They're ba-ack," she sang, pointing at the three men returning with food, and noticed that Reno was wearing a clean t-shirt advertising a hospital fundraiser. It made him look much younger, and she could see how truly frightened he was by all of this. Regretfully, she stood and smoothed her skirt. Leaning over and kissing Tseng's cheek, she said, "I'm going to leave you men to do whatever it is you do when you're worried. I'll be back bright and early tomorrow, but if I don't get some sleep you won't want me here, trust me." With another giggle and a wink at Cid as she stole a roll off the plate he had brought for Tseng, she exited the building and left for the night.

Tseng nodded his approval at Reno's change of attire, even if the color and theme were…lacking. Reno rubbed the back of his neck and resumed his position on the bank of chairs next to him. Turning his attention to the plate of what he assumed was food, Tseng found himself somewhat reluctant to return the bandersnatch, but was even more concerned about getting food on it. Exchanging plate of food for the stuffed animal, he averted his eyes and muttered his thanks, suddenly overcome with guilt for his previous confession to Aerith.

"It ain't as bad as it looks," Cid assured him, pulling a package of cellophane-encased plastic utensils from his shirt pocket and handing them over. He settled on the floor between Tseng's chair and the one Reno's feet rested on. He kept the stuffed thing close to his chest and off the floor as he leaned back and prepared to try to sleep.

At a red light ten minutes away from the hospital, Aerith decided at the last minute to turn instead of continue straight. She went around the block, got back on the main street, and even managed to snag her old parking place back as she pulled into the lot. It was going to be a long night and an even longer day, but as she realized that she was coming to care for Tseng, she figured it was probably worth it in the long run.


	40. Chapter 40

_A baby was crying…crying…crying. "Aiden!" Vincent shouted, sitting straight up. He was taking deep, gulping breaths and as he looked around, he noticed that he was not in the ShinRa Tower. The familiar mist swirled around him, but it was more like dry ice smoke now and not the freezing moisture it had been in his dreams._

"_He's dead," said a deep, familiar voice off to his right, just beyond the roiling mist. "And to answer your question: not yet, but you're close."_

"_Sephiroth?" Vincent queried hesitantly, slowly getting to his feet as he peered into the nothingness beyond._

"_Over here."_

_Cautiously, Vincent took a step forward and to his right, then another, and another until a shape, reclining against an invisible wall finally manifested itself. Startled, he stopped and looked down at his demon. From the waist down, Sephiroth had faded to a bare outline of what he had been, and when he looked at the man's face, he noticed the hollow cheeks, and the eerie eyes with their slivered pupils were sunken and glazed. "What happened to you?" he breathed._

"You _happened to me, Vincent," Sephiroth said without rancor. "Do you have any idea how much energy it takes keeping a soul bound to its body? And don't look at me like that. You couldn't possibly comprehend what I'm talking about so I won't bother trying to explain it to you." With a wince, Sephiroth weakly resituated himself._

"_So I'm…dead?" Vincent asked, mildly confused._

_Sephiroth snorted. "Did you not pay attention to what I just said? No, not yet. Look over there." He jerked with his chin, and Vincent followed the man's eyes._

No way_, he thought as a rectangular glow flared brighter for a moment. _Talk about being in a bad movie._ He squinted his eyes as he noticed shadows flitting back and forth just beyond the light. He was overcome with an almost unnatural curiosity to go and see what they were doing, almost like a compulsion. Then he heard a woman's merry laughter and a delighted shout, "Vincent! There you are! Come! Your son wants to see his father!"_

"_Lucrecia!" he shouted, a brilliant smile splitting his face and making him glow inside. He took a step towards the door, but a cold, clammy hand on his wrist stopped him._

"_Vincent," Sephiroth said wincing as though in pain. "Think carefully about what you are doing. You are not dead, you can go back. I have bought you time."_

"_But why would I want to go back? I've waited for this moment for fourteen years! You know this better than anyone!"_

_Sephiroth released Vincent's wrist, staring levelly at the man he had called "father" for ten years of his life. The only man to look upon him with fondness, and at that moment, he put aside his rage, his burning, all-consuming desire for revenge, and his need for Vincent to complete what he had promised, in favor of the needs of another. "Can you really think of no reason to go back?"_

_That simple question hit Vincent like a shot of cold water to the face. He looked back over his shoulder in the direction he had come and noticed for the first time the darkness. It was cold and unknown, lonely and there was no guarantee of happiness and every promise of more pain. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. "Cid," he breathed and shut his eyes. _

Back in the waiting room, Tseng had just managed to force down the food that tasted more like cardboard and smelled only slightly better than old gym socks, when a flash of pink made him jerk his head up. Black eyes widening in surprise, he stood up after setting his plate down several chairs away. "Aerith!" he called, at a loss for words, but irrationally overjoyed that she came back. "You came back." He held out his hands to her, unmindful of his uncharacteristic display of feeling in front of the others. He was so focused on Aerith's return that he missed Reno's open-mouthed gawk, Rude's snort and Verdot turning away and hiding an expression of pain. "Why?" he asked dumbly, kissing her cheek when she took his hands.

"Turns out I can't stay away," she said lightly, giggling again as she took in the reactions of the others. "Move, Cid," she said, nudging his half-asleep form with her foot. "You have your own man. No need to hog mine."

Cid stuck out his tongue at her in a display of childish annoyance, but moved anyway. The floor wasn't really all that comfortable, after all. He stood and, after throwing away Tseng's leftovers and leaving his tray somewhere inconspicuous, claimed the three seats on the man's other side, head in his lap just to get back at Aerith. "Better? I moved."

Startled and mildly panicked, Tseng lifted his arms and blinked. He looked at Aerith for help, unmindful of Reno's snickers that turned very quickly into laughter as the tension from the last several hours finally, _finally_ broke. "Uh…"

Cid grinned up at Tseng. "Aw, don't mind me. Just gettin' comf'table. Ain't gonna bother ya, is it?" Tseng's legs were, somehow, bonier and more uncomfortable than Vincent's. He'd move when he got bored with annoying Aerith.

The woman in question simply giggled again and grabbed one of Tseng's hands. "Scratch behind his ears. He likes that."

Cid noticed Tseng's scowl as she directed him to run his fingers through Cid's hair, but he also saw as the scowl gradually softened into something almost fond. Aerith let go of the captive hand, but Tseng continued even without her guidance. Cid caught himself feeling drowsy, but before he fell asleep, he said sadly, "Yer hands're like his," as he held the bandersnatch more firmly against his chest and snuggled more comfortably against Tseng's thighs, head turned so he could look out at the passing employees and late-night patients and visitors.

_You poor man_, Tseng thought, finding peace in the motions of the stroking. He could see why Vincent enjoyed being around him so much. There was something…calming about him. _Leviathan give you strength, my friend._

"He's pathetic, useless…and an idiot."Verdot said coming up to stand looking down at Cid's sleeping face, disgust written plainly on his scarred face. "Why does Vincent even tolerate being in his presence?"

Tseng didn't look up. He understood Verdot's malice and disapproval, having felt them once himself toward the man whose head now rested in his lap. He kept stroking gently and said softly, "Do you think you know how to measure a man, Verdot? Must he have a body count to be considered worthy?" He looked up then into the other's eyes. "Have you considered that it might be far more difficult to _save_ a man than it is to take his life?" He looked briefly at Aerith, then back at Cid, strangely moved to see how tightly he clutched the stuffed bandersnatch. "Vincent is…" He cleared his throat. "I have known Vincent for over twenty years. He's like the little brother that I never had. Mr. Highwind has only known Vincent for a couple of months and yet he has been able to do in that short amount of time what I could not in the same number of years. Why is that, do you think?"

Verdot, chastened, remained silent. He hadn't known Tseng had felt that way toward Vincent, and a part of him regretted harshly passing judgment on something he knew nothing about.

"I have thought about it a great deal, and have decided that Mr. Highwind's strength lies somewhere else. He fights on a level that we cannot possibly comprehend." His hand stilled and he looked back up at Verdot levelly. "But I do know this: we would all be gods-blessed if we had someone wanting to love us as much as he loves Vincent. And for that, I cannot pass judgment, nor fault him. Indeed, I find myself in debt to him, and it is a debt I bear with pride."

The night passed rather horribly for all of them. Cid had found himself awake at a very early hour, and had gone wandering around the hall they were in, dodging people in scrubs and staying far away from automatic doors or doors with alarms. He had, in effect, paced the same hallway up and down for nearly two hours before any of the others showed signs of life. When, passing by the waiting room, he had seen a few pairs of eyes blinking sleepily, he had taken the seat behind the help desk and watched them all wake up. The chair was one of those swiveling office things. He'd always wanted one of those.

Tseng's back hurt, and his eyes were gritty and burning. Aerith had taken Cid's place with her head on his lap and it was her hair that he was stroking now, marveling at just how soft and shiny it was. But she was beginning to stir too, and he lifted his arm to let her up. "Are you all right?"

Before she could answer him another attending physician approached them, holding a clipboard. "Excuse me, I'm Dr. Sears. Are you all with Mister…" he checked the paperwork. "…Valentine?"

"That's correct." Tseng said rubbing an eye. "How is he?"

"No change," the doctor said with resignation. "And his lungs are still not functioning on their own, but for the time being he is stable, but far from out of the woods. Dr. Bugenhagen okayed him for visitors, but only briefly and only a couple at a time. Who wants to go first?"

Tseng looked over at Cid. "Go on."

Cid shook his head and laughed nervously. "Y'know I never visited nobody in th'hospital b'fore? You go on. I think I…need a few minutes." When Tseng tried to protest, Cid shook his head again, more firmly this time. "Go see 'im. Tell 'im I'm on m'way."

Tseng hesitated a second longer before he rose and joined Dr. Sears as they walked down the hall toward Vincent's room. "Does your friend know that Mr. Valentine is in a coma?"

"Yes," Tseng sighed. "He is just…hopeful. And I would ask that you let him have his hope. He cares very much for ."

"I understand," Dr. Sears said seriously. "So often, hope is all we have. Here we are. Try and limit your time please, we don't want any unseen stress for the patient, but we also realize that sometimes it are those that care for the patient that make the biggest difference, which is why we are allowing visitation."

"Understood." Tseng said, stopping just in the doorway as Dr. Sears moved off back toward where the others were waiting. He was suddenly very frightened to proceed. He was afraid that if he did, it would harm Vincent in some way, and his shame at his failure to protect his friend crushed him. He didn't feel worthy to stand before Vincent. But in the end, he entered the dimmed hospital room.

He stilled immediately when he saw what was left of his 'brother' lying on the narrow bed before him. The first thing he noticed were the plethora of hoses: saline lines, blood lines, plasma lines, antibiotic bags, catheter lines hanging just below blanket level and he winced at that…the indignity of not even being able to go to the bathroom, but instead having a plastic tube shoved invasively into the body. There were plastic-covered wires and electrodes placed on flesh that was not covered by the heavy bandaging wrapped around Vincent's thin chest, and the quite beep-pause-beep-pause-beep of the heart monitor would drive him crazy if had to listen to it for very long. Accompanying the beeping heart monitor was the soft whoosh and hiss of the ventilator that feed oxygen into the tube down Vincent's throat and into his lungs, which in turn kept the man alive. While he had been in surgery they had installed a feeding tube in anticipation of an enduring coma. But what had him fighting tears was Vincent's pale, lifeless face. Even in this unresponsive condition the man was still beautiful, his face nearly porcelain, and the thick black lashes stood out in startling contrast to the tone of his ashen skin. His eyes were sunken, and his hair was matted with dried blood in places and in others stuck to his high forehead.

"Oh _niisan_," Tseng said, walking as though in a daze to stand over his friend. Shutting his eyes he lowered himself to his knees and rested his forehead against the bed by one of Vincent's limp hands. Carefully he took that hand and kissed the back of it. "Forgive me…little brother." For several minutes he held the back of Vincent's hand against the tattooed bindi on his forehead before he rose and tenderly brushed a strand of hair off of Vincent's neck. "I have failed you, Vincent. Please live so that I may regain my honor, and once again be able to hold my head high with pride to be your friend." He laced their fingers together and he hoped that Vincent could feel some of his warmth. "We have been through much together, you and I." He swallowed and actually choked on the last words he said: "Cid is here. He asked me to tell you that he is on his way."

Some time later, after much prodding –and eventually outright scolding- from Aerith, Cid ambled aimlessly toward the door of the room he knew contained Vincent. Clutching the bandersnatch more tightly than the design anticipated, he finally worked up the courage to knock and then open the door a crack. When Tseng made no move to stop him, Cid stepped inside. His eyes widened as he took in all that was in the room. He took a step back and nearly dropped the stuffed animal as his heart beat its way into his throat. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Vincent that he'd seen unpleasant things, but this…this was somehow more horrific than all of those combined. Something he'd been fighting nagged at him now: Vincent had a very slim chance of surviving this.

"I-" Cid swallowed with great effort but made no move to step forward. "I don't think I've ever been s'scared as I am right now," he whispered, not really speaking to Tseng but not caring that he heard. He wanted to go to Vincent, but somehow he felt it would be safer to keep a distance, so he did. "I'm gonna…stay back here. I don't wanna…don't wanna hurt 'im."

Tseng turned and faced Cid, his heart going out to him. "It's one thing to see it, but when it's someone you love, it takes on a whole new kind of fear, doesn't it?" He walked over and purposefully stood between Cid and Vincent. "Don't stay away from him. If he's ever needed you, it's now, more than ever." He stood to the side. "Go on. Touch him, talk to him…let him know you're here." He gave Cid a gentle nudge on the back. "You'll hurt him by staying away."

Cid turned mournful eyes on Tseng, but gave in and slowly made his way to stand at Vincent's side, banderstatch dangling unnoticed from one hand. With the other hand, he carefully reached out and touched Vincent's face, looking at anything but what was in front of him. He had no words at all for this, and he doubted that he could have spoken them if he had. "I can't," he told Tseng, turning around to face him again. "_He_ can't…" Cid said desperately, gesticulating with his free hand. "Don't know what t'do. I never cared about nothin' b'fore, not even m'own self. Thought I did, but now I know I been savin' it all up fer him."

His sadness caught up with him, and he had to blink back tears as he set the bandersnatch on a chair across the room and returned to the bed and sank to his knees only inches from where Tseng had knelt before. He had both hands free now, but nothing to do with them but keep them stiffly at his sides as he stared at the dying man before him.

"What would you do if he could speak? If he could see? Do that now." Tseng said and came up to stand next to Cid, briefly touching the man's head. "I wish- I wish you could have seen his face when he would speak about you. It was never much, he was never one to share information about himself…at least to me," Tseng amended softly. He chuckled quietly. "Most of it was venting frustration, but his cheeks would flush, and his eyes would come alive. I've waited so long to see that again. I can't imagine what he'd been through for the ten years he was missing, but whatever it was it had all but killed him. I kept hoping I would see some spark of the man he had been, but…" Tseng shook his head. "I had all but given up hope…until he met you. He's still in there, buried by pain, tormented by loss and guilt. But you showed him the way out. Help him out of the darkness again, Cid." Taking a chance, Tseng knelt by Cid and firmly took one of the man's hands and raised it to place it on top of Vincent's. "Let him know you're here."

Cid shook his head. "No. Y'don't see. This is th'darkness fer him. It has been for so long. I wouldn't be helpin' 'im out of it, I'd be draggin' 'im back in," he said quietly as his fingers gingerly stroked over the back of Vincent's hand. "How long will…they give 'im b'fore they give up? 'Cause dammit…I don't wanna let 'im go, but I don't wanna see 'im hurt anymore. And he will, if he comes back. I don't know anymore which'd be worse." A few morose, quiet moments passed as Cid finally dared to let his eyes find Vincent's still form. He staggered to his feet and leaned in carefully to press his mouth against the ear closest to him. "I won't leave, Vincent. I'll be here until it's over, one way or the other."

He kissed Vincent's cheek as he pulled away and resumed his position, and a small smile, fond but sad, found its way to his face. "Last time, when…when y'were leavin' an' he came back? He talked to me, in his language an' yours. Do you…think he'd mind if y'told me what 'e wanted t'say?" Cid asked, now holding Vincent's hand in both of his.

Tseng turned around and leaned back against the footboard of Vincent's bed, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning as he thought, staring at the floor. Both he _and_ Cid were crippled. He knew Vincent then, and Cid knew Vincent now, and as a result they were both getting it wrong. He chose his next words carefully. "I don't think either of us is in a position to know what is right for Vincent or not. Who are we to say that he would be miserable if he survived? Can _you_ see into his mind? Because I cannot. You underestimate Vincent's character, and I cannot grasp his mind. But we both want the best thing for him. What I _do_ know, is that he had changed since he had met you. Instead of brushing off the pain of his past, I think he's had to face it. You've done him a favor, Cid. He has begun to heal." Tseng fell silent a moment as he remembered back to yesterday. Finally he nodded again. "I don't think Vincent would mind, but Cid, I didn't hear a word of it. Can you remember any words?"

Chastened by Tseng's slice of reality, Cid let his eyes drop until he was looking at the floor. Tseng was right, of course. Cid had no right to say what Vincent wanted, or what was right for him, or anything. He had no right to say anything. "Maybe I don't wanna know after all," he mumbled against the cold plastic frame of the bed. "If 'e wanted me t'know, he woulda told me so I c'd understand it. If it w's somethin' bad, I don't wanna hear it, an' if it was somethin' good…well, I don't think I c'd handle that right now. I don't think I c'n say it anyhow. I think I want 'im t'tell me 'imself, if 'e makes it. An' if 'e don't…maybe I'll ask ya again some other time." There was another question he wanted to ask Tseng- another one he was not sure he wanted answered. "If…if he does come back but he's not…okay, like, if somebody has t'take care of 'im fer a long time, or even always…y'won't make me stay away from 'im, will ya?"

"No," Tseng replied softly. He hadn't thought of that, if Vincent would come back 'whole' or not. But it didn't change anything; if there was cerebral damage or not, he would still take care of Vincent. "I'd need your help if that were the case Cid." He dropped a hand to rest companionably on the blond's shoulder. "But it would appear that one thing did not change about Vincent. He has always had a hard time…telling people things; important things that they usually need to hear. I've never been able to figure out why, but I _think_ it might have something to do with the fact that he does not feel worthy of peoples' affection. He's afraid, and he hides, either through actions or words. Which of course is preposterous, but would he ever listen to me?" Tseng snorted and rolled his eyes. "Of course not."

Cid remained silent, hardly thinking. His world was so quiet suddenly, so empty, and he knew he would be unable to bear it if Vincent did not return and fill it again with the feelings and sounds from the stolen moments they had so greedily taken. He gave a weary sigh and mimicked Tseng's position sitting on the floor, accidentally dislodging the man's hand from his shoulder in the process. He hadn't even noticed it until it was gone. That set off another aimless thought. "They say y'don't realize what y'have until it's gone, but dammit, I always knew. Always knew what he was t'me. What I don't know is what t'do now, an' what t'do if he does go. Know what else I don't know? A hell of a lot o' things. I don't know a thing about Vincent, y'know that? Not a damn thing. Sometimes I wonder if that ain't what 'e likes best about me."

"Perhaps," Tseng said, pushing away from the bed to walk over and grab the plastic chair that rested in the corner. He set it up where he had been standing and took a seat, resting his hand on Vincent's blanketed shin while the other hand began mindlessly petting the stuffed bandersnatch he had moved to his lap in order to sit down. "He hates himself, holds himself responsible for things that are out of his control. And he thinks that if he shares anything of himself, then that person will hate him too. It's bold of me to say that, and perhaps I'm misinterpreting what I see, but it's in his eyes. He's always been that way." Tseng sighed and sat up and back. He shut his eyes as years came back to him. "His was such a bright future," he said sadly, opening his eyes again to look at Vincent's slack face. "He was a dreamer, Cid. As a child, he was always thinking of ways to make things better, and he had me convinced that one person could make a difference. That's what attracted me, I think, made me want to protect him. He looked at everything with such wide-eyed wonder, that I couldn't stomach the thought of someone taking that innocence away from him. I knew what the world could do to a person. I came from a single parent home, my father had run away shortly after I was born and my mother just couldn't handle the stress of raising a child and working, so she turned to drinking and from five-years-old and on I was taking care of her. Vincent never knew that kind of hardship. Oh, his parents were strict, don't mistake me, but they loved him. They nurtured him and encouraged him and he flourished as a result of it." Tseng fell silent, eyes unfocused as he remembered the kind of child that Vincent was, as he slowly stroked the unresponsive shin.

"Mm," Cid said distractedly, and then, "please don't touch 'im like that while 'e can't do anything about it. He don't like his legs bein' touched. Makes 'im nervous." Not that he could be nervous now, but still. "You c'n scoot over here an' hold 'is hand, if y'like. I'll move."

Tseng's eyebrow rose, but he had the good sense to hide his grin at how protective Cid was of Vincent. Respecting that, he bowed his head once and said. "All right." But he didn't want to make Cid move either, so he stood and replaced the chair, handing the bandersnatch to Cid and taking up a position on the wall. He watched Cid's face carefully as he continued. "Even so young, he was brilliant, skipping grades to become the youngest to be admitted into the Midgar Academy in its history. I was not so fortunate and had to continue back in Wutai with the rest of my age-mates, but Vincent was like clockwork with letters home telling me about everything that was happening in Midgar. I looked forward to those letters every week, until one year they started to become more sporadic, until they stopped all together. I remember being worried and writing to him to see if he was okay...by this time I had applied to the Medical University in the Capital and been accepted…and he wrote me back a long letter, telling me about Lucrecia." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and looked down at his feet. "He was in love, stupid in love, and she was all he could talk about. I was happy for him, and pretty much let him be. I had my own studies to attend to, but I did write to him and told him to bring her home so that I could meet her." Tseng grinned. "He did, the snarky bastard. That next holiday he brought her home, and with a ridiculously chivalrous grin on his face he presented her to me. She was a couple of years older than him, but a charming creature. I could see why he was so taken with her. I was two years into medical school when Vincent graduated top of his class in Midgar. He came home married and with every intention to begin teaching at the Wutai University, still firmly believing in making a difference. But the Emperor had gotten wind of him and his academic prowess and recruited Vincent as an advisor, again making history. His family was so proud. He brought honor to his house and his family so his marriage outside of the bloodlines was easily overlooked. It was as though everything he touched turned to gold! I was happy for him and yet extremely jealous. But how could you not be? He had everything! Family, a beautiful wife, a job that brought honor to his home…"

Tseng fell silent as the weight of what he was about to say settled upon his shoulders. "I was completing my third year of medical school when I realized the price of Vincent's success. He called me, one evening, ecstatic, saying that Lucrecia was pregnant. The idea of becoming a father changed him, matured him, and it became his sole reason for living. And it would be what killed him, in the end. Eight months later, Lucrecia gave birth to a baby boy, but the birthing process was too difficult and she died from complications. Vincent was crushed, utterly and completely crushed, and if it weren't for that child, he probably would have taken his own life. He told me, one evening that he felt responsible for her death, that if he hadn't gotten her pregnant then she would still be alive." He shook his head. "And then there was Ayden. He hardly put the child down; it was as though the baby was his last link to life…and sanity. But the gods weren't done with him. A month after he lost Lucrecia, Aiden died…and so did Vincent. I was there as he clutched that tiny, empty body and wept. He wouldn't even let me touch him. And then three days later after he released his son's ashes to the wind on the ocean, he disappeared. Just…gone."

Cid said nothing this time, but he thought about Lucrecia and Aiden. No matter how hard he tried, how much he reminded himself of what they meant to Vincent, he could not make himself care about them at all. No doubt it would have been different had he known Vincent at the time when it had all taken place, but for now, they were simply an obstacle he had to climb in order to get closer to Vincent.

There were several minutes of silence as Tseng collected and evaluated his memories. "Ten. Years. Mr. Highwind, I looked for the man who was more my brother than my friend. But every lead I followed turned up nothing. I had traced Vincent to a bar in the Wutai slums but after that, nothing. His family exhausted all of their fortune in trying to find him…it killed his mother, and his father fared little better. I had given up on medical school, Vincent meant more to me than that, and I searched until I just couldn't anymore. And I had to accept the fact that Vincent was dead. That's where this came from." He said, touching his bindi. "It's ancient custom to place a mark upon your forehead if you are missing a loved one. The tradition originated in the coastal fishing villages for those lost at sea. It just seemed…fitting for Vincent. I never told him that was what the mark was for, and don't plan to either. He'll just blame himself."

Tseng looked back down at the floor. "Then, ten years to the day he disappeared we had a horrendous thunderstorm. The entire year actually had been abnormal. But it was late, and I had been burning incense at the small shrine I had built for him, for the anniversary of his disappearance, and was about to go to bed when there was a knock on the collection of boards that I was using for a door. I answered it, and there was Vincent; naked, starved, shivering and completely soaked. He wouldn't look at me, wouldn't speak to me, he just stood there shaking and I distinctly remember not being able to see his eyes because of the long, matted hair in his face. I retrieved a blanket and brought him inside, drying him off as best as I could. Then I wrapped him in it and fed him all the meager food that I had. He ate it all. I tried to get out of him where he had been, but all he would say was, "Don't tell my father." I swore then and there that I would never leave his side, and a month later, I left with him for Midgar and the rest is torturous history."

Cid was silent a few more moments, wondering if Tseng was going to continue. When it appeared that he was not, Cid took a shaky breath and said, "Look, I…I appreciate you tellin' me an' all, but…now don't take this th'wrong way. I don't care. I mean, I'm glad t'know it, but it don't make a diff'rence t'me. I don't care about his past because it's enough for me that I have him now, and if he ever wants to talk t'me about what happened b'fore, that's his choice an' not yours. I'll listen to him the way I'm sure you planned fer me t'listen t'you. His story isn't yours t'tell. Maybe he never woulda wanted t'talk about it, an' that's okay too. I love the man he is now, and I love him no matter what. He knows, and you an' I both know, that the man you knew before is dead. If y're still hangin' onta him, I feel sorry for ya, 'cause y're missin' a damn good thing with who 'e is now." Piece said, Cid lapsed into silence again and held the bandersnatch against his face. "Y're still important t'him, an' I respect ya because you were with him through so much. But I gotta question now whether it was because o' him…or fer yer own self, because you didn't know what t'do without 'im. Not that I c'd blame ya either way," he conceded, aiming a wry smile in Tseng's direction. "I hope you understand what I'm sayin'. I ain't out t'hurt ya."

Tseng shook his head. "I know you're not. And perhaps I was living for myself for a time, I'm not perfect, Cid. I'm human, just like you are. But on one point, you are wrong. That man is not dead. He was just forced to grow up. To realize that the world is not the shining beacon of hope that he thought it once was. I was selfish to try to protect him from it, but if you had known him then, you would have understood why I did what I did. I was not telling you his story, I was telling you mine. Ten years is a long time to hurt, and an even longer time to reflect on things that perhaps should have been done differently. It's a long time to make sure a lesson is learned." He pushed off of the wall to walk over and stand over Cid. "Don't give me your pity, and don't presume to know why I stayed with him. He's my friend and I won't give up on him. I had so many opportunities to just walk away, but I didn't." He squatted down to be on eye-level with Cid. "So why did I tell you all of that just now? What was the point? I'll tell you." He stared levelly at Cid. "To really know Vincent _now_, you have to have known him then. That's who he is, under all of the layers of pain, behind every wall and barrier. I'm glad you love him as he is now, and you stand the best chance of reaching him. I tried, and I failed. But it doesn't make me love him any less. I want him to live again, and if that makes me selfish then I'm guilty and I'll shoulder the consequences of that gladly. But are you worthy of him, Cid Highwind? That's what you need to ask yourself. Can I relinquish my hold on him to you, and not fear what will happen? Vincent loves with his entire being, not just his heart. Keep that in mind, always." He stood up and turned towards the door. "I'm here for Vincent, and if he wishes me to leave then I will. Keep that in mind as well. I'll let you be alone with him now."

"Don't go yet," Cid whispered, and heard Tseng still to listen. "Look, we….we're not gonna see eye-to-eye on lots o' things, you an' me. Vincent's been th'most important thing t'you fer twenty years. And I'm not worthy of him. I never will be, because no one is. But like you, m'selfish, an' I reckon in the world we live in that's close enough." He smiled at the floor and said, "He called me 'baby.' Just once, but…only ever heard 'im talk like that about, y'know, her." Finally looking back up at Tseng, Cid asked, "If I tell ya what he said, will ya promise only t'tell me if y'think it's somethin' he'd want me t'know right now?"

Tseng looked back over his shoulder at Cid. "I suspect you are right, Cid. We come from two very different worlds, but I will make that promise."

Cid nodded, and then, in careful, broken Wutainese, did his best to repeat the words Vincent had spoken. He found that it was easier to remember them when he looked at Vincent.

Tseng stilled and he felt an unusual burn begin in his eyes. He never thought he would hear those words from Vincent again, even if Cid had them a little… skewed. He chuckled softly, "As much as I would love for him to have told you, 'My goat ate my underwear', I don't think that's what he said." He looked at the floor and said sadly. "His own feelings frighten him, Cid. That's why he told you in Wutainese." He grabbed the doorknob. He needed to leave the two alone. He repeated the last two lines, because they were the most important, and what Cid needed to hear. "He said, 'I love you, Cid Highwind…I love you." And without waiting for the man to reply, he quietly left the room.


	41. Chapter 41

Expansion on some _minor _characters in this chapter, necessary for advancing the plot and tying things together, but their appearance does not signify a shift in focus on characters. Thanks. :)

* * *

They had been forged in the very fires of hell, and they reigned over their empire with an iron fist of fear. Rumors abounded of how they bathed in the blood of those stupid enough to challenge them for power, and they did nothing to dispel them. The older was a man of action, choosing to fight and glorying in the victory of standing over the dead body of his opponent. The younger was a thinker, conniving and wily, he was the brains behind the living predator that was called The Syndicate. Caught in the middle of two brothers as loyal to each other as they were mistrustful, and completely content to be so trapped, was the beautiful viper known as Rosso the Crimson. She was their Mouth, the deliverer of punishment, and gatherer of information. She was a siren who lured men to their deaths, and was Weiss and Nero's pride and joy. Sculpted from the tender age of four years old and on, she was the only one they allowed into their "circle". The only person they found worthy…until Vincent Valentine rocketed into power in just three short years.

Through Valentine, their empire grew, and they reaped the rewards and got drunk off the power. For years, Midgar had been a city of inferiors, lowlifes, too stupid to bring into business. They had learned a painful lesson with Genesis, the Red General, and as a result had been reluctant to enter into negotiations. But Valentine had shown them the possibilities, had worked with them with no gain for himself and at a massive financial cost, and Nero had quickly seen the potential for even more. When Valentine had suggested opening up relations with Wutai, Weiss and Nero both had nearly left the negotiation table, for the only thing lower than a Midgaran was the Wutainese. But Valentine again had proven himself invaluable, shrewd and business savvy and possessing a steel trap of a political mind. He had used his Wutainese heritage to his advantage, and Weiss and Nero once again found themselves sitting down at the table to hear him out. The man was lethal in a fight, which earned him Weiss's respect, and he found Nero's through making use of his impressive intelligence and dry wit, while Rosso had more than once openly admitted the man was easy on the eyes and expressed her desire to mate with the man, 'dirty' blood or no. Nero had been impressed by the half-breed's restraint.

Over the short years they had been allied, Vincent Valentine had repeatedly proven himself both loyal and honorable, doing what he said he would do and always delivering the product, and as a result Weiss and Nero had extended their "circle" to include the Wutainese half-breed. When Nero had called Valentine's office and been transferred to a common secretary, and through her learned of Shinra's betrayal, he had seethed. When he, in turn, had informed Weiss, his brother had become enraged, and when they broke the news to Rosso, she had calmly asked when they were leaving for Midgar. It had been that night. They had had every intention of killing Rufus Shinra, except the man was already dead –a fact that only served to irritate Weiss even further as the man wanted Shinra's head. The secretary had told Nero where Valentine had been taken and now all three of them strode down the busy hospital hallways, staff and patients alike parting to either side like water in front of the bow of a ship. They came with a purpose and would not be deterred. They could not avenge Valentine, but they could offer him the next best thing…

Cid smiled at Vincent and stroked his hand. Just as he'd suspected, then, no more and no less. "I love you too, Vincent. I hope y'hear me, wherever y'are, an' that y'come back to us. It ain't just me who needs ya, but I need ya most, because…I've never been loved like that b'fore, y'know. Like this. An' it's too goddamn soon t'give it up." He hoisted himself off the floor and into the chair, bandersnatch at Vincent's feet. He'd move it back to the chair when he left. He stood again and resituated the chair so it was where he wanted it, and took Vincent's hand again, this time kissing the palm before resting his cheek against it. "An' I hope yer goat eats all yer underwear."

It seemed easy enough to repeat the words he wanted to say; he had heard them three times now, but he was sure he still had the pronunciation a bit wrong as he told Vincent in shaky but determined Wutainese, "_I love you_." He remained in that position, sometimes silent, sometimes speaking or even laughing quietly, until he was interrupted some time later.

"_So it seems you _do_ remember," Sephiroth smirked, resting his head back against the unseen object he was resting against._

"_I-" Vincent shook his head, then looked back into the darkness. "What do you mean, I 'do remember'?"_

"_Those left behind are often forgotten here. I've seen it too frequently." Sephiroth shrugged a shoulder dismissively. "It would appear you have not. But the question remains…" he winced again and resituated himself more upright, and Vincent noted that the man's legs up to the knee were completely gone. "Do you remember him _enough_?"_

"_Enough?" Vincent breathed distractedly, his attention now drawn to the dancing shadows just beyond the illuminated portal._

"_To go back," Sephiroth answered wryly._

"_Vincent?" the woman's voice queried. "Are you there? I-I thought I heard your voice…won't you come and see your son? And me?" There was the sound of a baby's bright, gurgling laughter._

_Vincent felt his heart stop in anticipation of holding his son again. He took a hesitant step toward the light, then another, and another, his heart growing lighter with each step. He was so close! Suddenly there was a warmth wrapping around his wrist, stopping him instantly. Curiously, he looked down as that warmth spread to his hand, and he cocked his head as he _thought_ he heard something, but he wasn't sure and there was nothing touching his skin. He raised his hand and looked at it in confusion, then over at Sephiroth. "Did you…?"_

"_Did I what?" Sephiroth asked, his tone bored._

_Vincent shook his head, saying, "Never mind," and continued walking toward Lucrecia._

"I love you." _It was so clear it was as though he had run face-first into a very sturdy wall. He stopped again and shook his head, trying to clear it._

"_We've waited so long, Vincent. Please, hurry!" Lucrecia pleaded, her voice as sweet as the cherry blossoms she was so fond of._

"_Lucrecia!" he called back, even as he fought the warm restraint around his wrist._

"I love you."_ It was quieter this time, but more earnest, and very nearly heartbreaking._

"_Come darling, your mother is here…"_

"Come back…I love you…"

"_Stop it!" Vincent cried, clutching his head as he was pulled in two directions at once. _

_From his position on the ground, Sephiroth began to chuckle. "Poor Vincent. Decisions, decisions…" The silver-haired man watched him unblinkingly. "So what will you choose, Vincent? The dark or the light? Such a classic question, don't you think?" Sephiroth cocked his head. "So which is it? It's time to choose. If you go back, you'll lose everything, but you'll experience a joy unlike anything else. If you go forward, you'll be reunited with your lovely wife and your little son, but you'll leave behind something more precious than both. Such a weighty choice, I wonder what it will be…"_

_Desperately, Vincent looked into the light, then back the way he had come. "Cid," he breathed. "I-"_

Cid was smiling at Vincent and attempting to hum to him a few bars of the song he had played, the one written for his mother. Unfortunately, such a complicated piece of music was skewed on such a simple instrument, and he could not remember a vast majority of the notes anyway. Just as he gave up and laughed to Vincent over his failure to successfully recreate the song, the door opened without warning. Cid looked up and was genuinely frightened by what he saw. Three people he had never seen, two men and one woman, were making their way to Vincent's bedside briskly, and he did not doubt that they would run over him if he stayed where he was. He stayed anyway. "Whaddaya want with 'im?" he asked wearily, and he would have been surprised at his own boldness had he not been so exhausted. "Can't you all just let 'im rest one day in 'is life?"

_Such a waste_, Rosso thought briefly, sadly as she took in the man lying in the hospital bed. Very few men had ever affected her like Vincent Valentine did. And she respected even fewer. Vincent quickened her blood and was not afraid of her. The only other ones to be able to claim that were Weiss and Nero, but they were more like her older brothers. A part of her, a deep down, secret part of her had always hoped that Vincent would take her as a mate, remove her from the life that she lived…and the fear that was ever present. But he had never made a move, and somehow, strangely that had made her respect him even more. Vincent was of the old country, with elegant, cultured manners, and while she had never gotten used to them, she was a true woman at heart, and they had made an impact and melted the ice a little in her chest. She had seen the way he had looked at her, hungrily, appreciatively, undressing her with his red eyes, and she had contented herself with that, kept it a precious, treasured secret and recalled that look many times when she had been alone in her Spartan apartment, late at night.

Now he was, for all appearances, dying. _Her_ Vincent. And the man responsible was out of her reach. Her rage had been difficult to contain, and what she could not subdue, she took out on the pathetic man hovering over Vincent's bed now. "Out of de vey, little man!" she snarled softly and bodily lifted the hunched blond out of the chair and pinned him in the corner with hands and a stare. "Stay, or I vill break your neck." She turned back to the bed and hastily removed the chair the man had been occupying so that Nero could take up a position on one side of Vincent's body while Weiss went around the bed to stand in the same place as Nero did. She took a step back, keeping a wary eye on the nervous man in the corner while keeping the other on what the brothers were doing. This was an ancient tradition in her country, stemming back to the days when the country of Modeoheim was just scattered, nomadic tribes. A sacred tradition that to this day was still upheld by blood and respected by all. Vincent was being honored. Weiss and Nero did not do this lightly. Rosso looked down briefly at the scar on her own hand and felt pride.

Her attention was drawn back up as both Weiss and Nero, without looking away from Vincent's slack face, each drew an ornate dagger, razor sharp and decorated with their family crest, from identical shoulder sheaths. Her brow rose. Honored indeed. Vincent would bear two marks to her one. Nero had placed his mark upon her palm, but Weiss had not. Weiss had never bound himself to anyone. Today that would change.

Together the brothers began to speak in the slow, determined cadence of their native tongue:

"_Before time began, and the gods made man,_

_From the fire of the sun came the Bond._

_A mark is made, a fate is sealed_

_By blood an oath is born._

_My fight is yours, as yours is mine_

_To answer the call is duty's form._

_To you I bind a life and mind_

_And from you I take all back._

_Brother to brother, our blood holds true_

_From now until the end of time."_

At the end, Weiss and Nero reached down and picked up Vincent's hands, palms up and each made careful, meticulous incisions, drawing forth the ruby red of blood. Next they gently replaced Vincent's hand and raised their own. Without a change of expression, they both gripped the blades and savagely jerked down, opening their palms. They then picked Vincent's hands up once again and placed the wounds together and repeated: "_Brother to brother, our blood holds true/ From now until the end of time,_" and ended with a solemn, "I am so bound." Finally, they each withdrew a square of gauze and a length of red silk and lovingly bound up the marks they had made on Vincent's palms, leaving their own to bleed freely.

Leaning down they each kissed Vincent's forehead. First came the youngest, Nero, and the dark-haired brother murmured, "Be well, Vincent. We still have much to discuss, brother." Next came Weiss, who leaned down and brushed his lips against Vincent's brow, lingering a moment as he pressed his lips more firmly. He took this ritual extremely seriously, and unbeknownst to Nero, cared very deeply for Vincent. "Heal, brother," was all he said before he straightened, and together he and Nero left Vincent's hospital room, without so much as a glance at the man in the corner, who had seen it all.

Rosso was deeply moved by Weiss' open display of affection. She honestly had never thought the man was capable of it. Giving Vincent a last, long look that spoke far more than a little cut, she walked over to the wide-eyed blond, and looked down at him severely. "Remember vhat you saw today, little man. And tell all you see: Vhen you fuck vith Vincent, you fuck vith ze Syndicate." She patted the man's cheek and smirked at his glare before sweeping out of the room, and for now…out of their lives.

Cid had watched, trapped and mesmerized by whatever it was that was going on. The unfamiliar people brought an unfamiliar language with them, and he found that where Vincent's language sounded graceful and eloquent to him, the language these two had spoken sounded fierce, harsh, and generally unpleasant. Perhaps, though, it had been due to the fact that they had barged in and proceeded to slice open his Vincent. "Damn freaks. Can't even give ya a fuckin' day off…" Even so, Cid had the distinct feeling that what had occurred among the four of them – three, really, because the woman had just stood there glaring death at him- was not something of malicious existence. He returned to Vincent and, for a moment, mourned the fact that he could not hold Vincent's hand again until the cuts healed.

Then he just sat down again and looked at Vincent sadly, wishing he understood more about the life Vincent had chosen to lead. Like Weiss and Nero, Cid bent to kiss Vincent's forehead, and then nuzzled against his ear again. He whispered, "I'm gonna go sit over by th'wall now, Vincent, all right? I'll be back, but you oughta rest some. We ain't left ya alone since ya been here. I ain't leavin' th'room, in case-" _In case what, stupid? In case he needs help, so he can call ya? Not likely_. "-in case anybody else tries t'come in. They'll hafta deal with me bein' in here too. But I'll lay off touchin' ya a while an' I won't talk s'much." That said, he raised the chair and returned it to its old position near the wall. Taking the bandersnatch back, Cid sat down and watched Vincent's stillness, wondering morbidly how many odd things could happen in one day.

Dr. Paul Bugenhagen knew how to talk to people. He had been doing it for years now with the families of each and every one of his patients. He had extensively studied psychology while attending the Academy prior to medical school, and it had stood him in good stead all these years. All that, though, was sorely tested by the crew he faced in the waiting room now.

"Look, I'm sorry, but he _needs_ his rest…" Dr. Bugenhagen tried, and sighed when he was interrupted yet again.

"But you _said_ he could have visitors, yo!" a scrappy, thin redhead said, standing up and glaring much hate at him.

"Yes, I did, but…"

"Then why are you keeping us from him?" a tall, mean-looking man with a nasty scar on his face demanded, stepping toward him menacingly. "What will it take for us to go and see him?"

"Look, I don't think that…"

"Do you normally go back on your word, _doctor_?" questioned a stern-faced, dark-skinned man in shades. He crossed his arms and scowled at the doctor.

"No, but you're all tired and I think-"

"You'll have to do better than 'I think'-"

"Enough," a quiet, solemn-looking man with black hair and even blacker eyes said as he came forward. It was the man with whom he had spoken after the patient's surgery. There was a pretty wisp of a woman hand in hand with him at his side; she had the greenest eyes he had ever seen. She smiled sweetly at him, and Dr. Bugenhagen found himself smiling back. "I think we all need to go home and rest. Vincent is in good hands here, and I don't believe that he would want you all to see him like that." The poor man looked exhausted- they all did. "Let us respect him enough to do that." He turned to face Dr. Bugenhagen. "You'll call us if there is any change?"

"Of course," Dr. Bugenhagen said feelingly. "He's being monitored around the clock, and if something should change, you'll all be notified. I give you my word."

"Your _word_ don't mean a whole lot, _doctor_," the man with the scar hissed, but fell back as the black-eyed man held up his hand.

"I'll hold you to your word, doctor. Do you have our numbers?"

"Yes," Dr. Bugenhagen said, holding up the slip of paper containing their information, gathered by the receptionist. Judging by the expressions he saw around him, he had no doubt that there would be severe repercussions if he did not uphold his word. Repercussions that involved midnight visits and sharp objects inserted into soft places. He swallowed.

"Then I'll bid you good day," the black-eyed man said, holding out his arm. He then brought up the rear as the others_ finally_ left his waiting room, and the good doctor found himself wishing they would not return any time soon.

With a sigh and a rub over his face with his free hand, Dr. Bugenhagen turned and walked back to his patient's room…and encountered one last, reluctant-to-leave visitor. Wilting, he hoped that this man would not give him as much trouble as the men he had come in with had. He knocked quietly on the room's door. "Excuse me," he said, and when the blond-haired man looked at him, he hesitated. This man had a different look about him, a kind of quiet, hopeful desperation. "I need to ask you to leave now; visitation is over, but you can come back tomorrow if you like," he said gently.

"All right," Cid responded quietly. "Let me just…say g'dbye real quick." He left his place in the chair and leaned over Vincent's bed to kiss his cheek and mutter, "I wouldn't leave so easy if I didn't know it w's better for ya. I'll be back soon's they let me in t'morra, sugar, so hang on for me." And then, because it felt good to be able to say it that way, he repeated, "_I love you_," the way he'd learned to earlier, in Wutainese and for Vincent's ears only. He ran his fingers down Vincent's arm tenderly, then turned to the doctor. "You'll keep an eye on 'im th'whole time, right? Or someone will? If y'can't keep someone on 'im, I'll stay. Sleep right over in th'corner an' stay outta th'way. Or even outside th'door, if that's better. I-" He stopped short, seeing the sad shake of the doctor's head. "Can't stay, huh? All right. What time c'n I come t'morra? I wanna be here first thing. I promised 'im I would."

Dr. Bugenhagen was sorely tempted to let the man stay, given just _how_ reluctant he was to leave, but rules were rules. "Eight o'clock. Visitation doesn't usually start until nine, but I'll make an exception for you." He put his hand on the man's shoulder. "He'll be checked on regularly by nurses and I'll stop in myself every free chance I get. Now, go home and try and get some rest. I'll tell you the same thing I told the others: if anything changes, I'll call you." The poor man nodded and with one last, heartbreaking look toward the man in the bed, slipped out the door and Bugenhagen followed them. Neither man saw Vincent's hand twitch.


	42. Chapter 42

Sorry for the late update! We're still around. ^-^

* * *

Cid left the room, only to find that the others had gone without him, even Aerith. He felt distinctly alone, the knowledge that Vincent would have waited for him heavy in his mind. With a sigh, he tucked the stuffed bandersnatch under his arm and began walking home. It was a fairly long walk, but it helped to clear his mind. There was guilt to spare in said mind; he had hogged Vincent to himself when the rest of his men should have been allowed the chance to see him, he had given up hope for a while, and now, worst of all, he found that he was not worried. He should be worrying, should be nearly panicking, but he had somehow settled for a sense of calm.

Twenty-five minutes later, he trudged up the stairs instead of taking the elevator. Upon arriving at his floor, Cid was shocked to see someone standing outside his apartment. Someone familiar. It hit him then that this was probably not a social call, and that he probably wanted nothing to do with it and definitely had no choice in the matter. "What?" he asked irritably, hoping hopelessly that it had nothing to do with Vincent.

Lieutenant Zack Fair of the Midgar Police Department pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning on next to Cid's 'new' front door with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "Evenin' Cid," he said with a jerk of his chin. "How are ya?"

"Exhausted," Cid said shortly, and dug for the key. He found it, unlocked the door, pushed it open, and sighed. "C'mon in. Make yerself at home."

"Thanks buddy," Zack said, following Cid into his apartment. Looking around he gave a low whistle. "Nice digs, man, unemployment must be payin' pretty well, huh?" He walked over to the kitchen table after taking an indulgent, intrusive moment to open a couple of cabinets to examine the contents, hooked a foot behind a chair leg and pulled it underneath him so he could sit in it backwards. Propping his crossed arms on the back of the chair he eyed Cid Highwind, _formerly_ of the Midgar Police Department. "Why might that be, I wonder. Not out chasing ambulances are ya?"

Cid thought quickly about how to explain the apartment. He had nothing, so he made a feeble attempt at evading the question. "Hey, I know how t'save, that's all. Somethin' t'drink?" he asked grudgingly, noting with glee that Zack was sitting in a chair that neither he nor Vincent had ever used. "What brings y'out here, anyway? Scarlet want me dragged back so she c'n get off watchin' Wallace break th'rest o' my ribs?"

Zack narrowed his startlingly brilliant blue eyes before shaking his head. "Wouldn't know anything about that; no thanks, you mind if I smoke?" he asked, reaching into his jacket pocket for his cigarettes and propping one in between his lips and holding the pack out to Cid in offer.

Cid sighed and declined with a shake of his head. He tried to keep the cigarettes outside, but this was a special occasion. "Yeah, I don't care," he said resignedly, and he didn't, not about anything but whether Vincent would survive the night.

Zack shrugged and lit up, blowing a thin stream of blue smoke towards the ceiling. "Where's yer friend?" he asked, putting the pack back into his pocket.

"Don't have any," Cid shot back, internally wincing at how true that might become tomorrow.

Zack nodded thoughtfully. "Then who's that black-haired fella I've been seein' you hanging around with? The real pretty one?" he asked, grinning wolfishly through a faint haze of smoke.

Cid snorted as he sat in Vincent's chair, as if to make sure Zack didn't change his mind and decide to claim it after all. "Don't flatter yerself. Y'ain't that pretty. An' it's been months since I been around you, anyway."

Zack laughed. "That's funny, Highwind! But you know as well as me that I'm not exactly your 'type'. My hair's too short. So why don't you answer my question."

"Which one? Y'already done asked more'n I c'n keep up with." He took a deep breath, inhaling a great deal of Zack's smoke and choking on it. "Wave that th'other way, would ya? Better yet, wave yerself on out with it an' let me sleep," Cid all but pouted.

"Whoa easy, Highwind! Sheesh, you're acting as though you have somethin' to hide." He eyed Cid suspiciously. "I only asked ya one simple, little question, no need to get all defensive."

Cid fixed him with an expressionless stare and made no comment.

"So you_ do_ have something to hide." Zack said, getting a little excited. He always loved interrogating people. "What are you cookin' up, Highwind? You and your little friend."

"I can't cook," Cid deadpanned. _But he can_.

Narrowing his eyes, Zack stared at Cid flatly, but his tone remained light. "Not what I heard."

"An' what is it you heard?" Cid asked, sighing as he accidentally re-broke his glasses in his attempt to massage away his oncoming headache.

"Last time I checked I was the one askin' questions here." Zack grinned, propping his chin on his crossed arms after blowing a stream of smoke in Cid's direction. "Tell ya what," he said wriggling in his chair like an excited puppy. "Let's play a game. I ask you a question, and if I like the answer then you can ask me one in return."

"Not so good at games," Cid admitted, suspicious…and suddenly very nervous. Of course his apartment was bugged. Why would he think otherwise? They should have continued going to Vincent's place; that at least was a bit safer. But this was no time to panic, so he didn't, and instead did his best to remain calm and collected. "M'the surest loser I ever did meet. But if that's how y'wanna play, let's go." Fair, at least, would probably not get physical unless someone else got physical with him, in which case he would probably sympathize with Cid and then it wouldn't be so bad anyway, because maybe Fair was faster and everything, but he didn't pack as much of a punch as Wallace. Probably. But then, chances were that it wouldn't come to that. Even if it did, it wouldn't matter. He had to protect Vincent, especially right now. Everything else came second to that.

Zack's grin widened as he stared intently at Cid. "Who have you been seeing?"

Cid closed his eyes and pretended to think really hard. "Lessee…the neighbors, Aerith, you…" he said, ticking off each one on his fingers, "oh! An' that one Honeybee boy. Me an' Corneo, we patched up that misunderstandin' of ours, see? He reckoned he owed me a favor."

Zack laughed again. "Y'know, I'm really gonna _miss_ you around the station, Highwind! I'll bet you really pissed that bitch Scarlet right off! But ya see, here's the thing: I'm not tired, I don't have anywhere else to be tonight and this is official business. So I'm gonna keep my happy ass sat right here in this chair until _you_ start telling me what I want to hear. And I ain't lettin' you go until you do either. We can do this here, in your nice, comfy new apartment, or we can do it down at the station where I'll bet _lots_ of other people are gonna love seeing you again, including your friend Wallace, I'm sure. Now, let's try again, shall we?"

It was Cid's turn to laugh, though his was humorless. _Well, they won't kill me so long as they think I know somethin', an' I been beat up b'fore. I'll live, _he thought,_ an' somethin' tells me he won't really bring me down there anyway_. "You might be waitin' a while, then, 'cause I am tired, I ain't on official business, an' I do have somewhere else t'be- my bed. I'm gonna give you another…" he paused and pretended to check his watch for the time, "fifteen minutes, an' then I'm goin' t'bed. You c'n follow me there if y'like," he finished, waggling his eyebrows.

Zack nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, you _do _kinda look like warmed-over shit. I tell ya what. How 'bout we skip the game and lemme tell ya what I think went down." He reached over and ashed onto the empty plate that sat on the table. He took a long drag, held it then let it drift slowly from his mouth and nose. "_I_ think my Valentine was fuckin' ol' Shinra, that's what I think, 'cause ya _know_ he was way too friggin pretty t' be straight, right? A fast little back-office fuck or two when Shinra wasn't sending him out on little gopher runs." He accentuated it with a couple of hip thrusts. "But then, see, Princess gets _tired_ of Rufus, and he finds himself another little boy-toy to play sit 'n' spin with on the side, maybe this new pet's doing something for him, gettin' him something or being his mule, I haven't quite figured that one out yet." Zack resituated himself on the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him with a grunt, ashing on the plate again and taking another drag. "But then the wife finds out his lover's been cheatin' on him, I'm thinkin' maybe one of his little lap-dogs squealed, and gets it into head that if he can't have Princess then nobody can, and…" he leveled his fingers in the shape of a gun at Cid, sighted down the "barrel", and made a little "pghuuu" sound. "…puts a bullet into his pretty bastard's heart." Zack cocked his head at Cid thoughtfully. "Now the part that's been givin' me the shits is this: if Rufus popped Valentine, and he did a real number from what I heard, and ol' Val didn't have a weapon…_who_ killed the wife?" he wondered aloud, holding his arms out theatrically. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back smugly, blue eyes narrowed as he regarded Cid's pale face. "I think boy-toy followed Princess home, shot the wife and scrammed outta there before the dogs came running, that's what I think. Wanna know how I came to this conclusion?" Zack paused for a heartbeat before continuing without letting Cid answer. "I thought so: now, unlike you, I _do_ have friends and several of 'em are lab-geeks. Those lab-geeks are really, _really_ good at their job. Now the body couldn't be examined, but his _clothes_ could be and guess what they found in Princess's panties? Yep, you guessed it: _semen_, and we're not talking sailors either here partner, we're talking the real stuff here: jizz, cum, squirt, whatever th' hell you wanna call it. But you wanna know what makes it really cherry? They found some blond hairs, _short_ blond hairs and they didn't match the wife's. _I'm_ bettin' the semen won't either. Which leads me to this: you wanna tell me what you were doin' last night, Chief? And I'm gonna need you to give us some samples. Probable cause and whatnot, y'know." Zack finished a little snidely.

Cid just nodded. He hadn't even considered that he might be suspected for having killed Rufus. Actually, he hadn't even heard –or maybe he had heard, and just hadn't processed- that Shinra was dead at all. "I'll be c'mpletely honest with ya, then. Last night, I was here, alone, and no, I don't reckon I c'n prove that. But I gave up my gun the last time I left th'station, an' that's the only gun I've ever held outside o' designated trainin' areas. Hell, I don't even know how t'get t'the damned ShinRa tower. Y'think they wouldn't'a noticed if they'd been followed? They're trained fer that shit." Never mind that Vincent hadn't noticed Raven that one time. "An' you know personally I'm too much a clutz t'pull that off. Not t'mention I wouldn't've killed 'im if 'e'd begged me. That ain't my place." Cid paused a moment and then said, "You saw me at th'Wutai place. That was th'last time I left here until a couple hours ago." He sighed and placed his head on the table. "What do I hafta do t'get you off m'back?"

Zack regarded Cid's weary form. He shook his head sadly. "You _are_ honest, but not entirely truthful. I know you're having sex with Valentine, and you'd better hope I'm the _only_ one who knows that part. I've _seen_ you shoot in the training area, Chief, when you thought no one was watchin' ya. You _can_ pull something like that off, and who's to say that they didn't give you a ride back to the Tower, or _let_ themselves be 'followed'. You _have_ probable cause to want Rufus dead, and you have absolutely no alibi that can be confirmed." He snuffed his cigarette out and leaned forward. "Ballistics tested your issued sidearm as soon as the lab results on the hair came back and it didn't have any gunpowder residue, which means it wasn't the weapon that was used to kill ShinRa, so that corroborates that part of your story. But, Chief, look at the men you're hangin' out with, they sleep, eat and shit with guns, you could have used one of theirs." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, puffing his cheeks out as he exhaled. "Believe it or not, I'm not your enemy here. You were a crappy cop, but you were a _straight_ crappy cop and that's workin' in your favor. I'll need you to come into the station so our docs can take those samples, just…just don't leave town until then, all right?"

Lifting his head from the table, Cid sighed and responded, "I ain't goin' anywhere. The ones who run are the ones what got somethin' t'hide, an' besides, I ain't got nowhere to go. Nope, I'll be right here, mindin' my own business an' waitin' fer y'all t'decide t'leave me th'hell alone." He was sure his eyes showed everything he was feeling; he was far too tired to try to keep his emotions in check, and the weariness and sadness and worry were too strong to hold back even at the best of times.

Zack felt like beating his head against a nice brick wall. Didn't Cid realize that his very lack of reaction was damning? That he was just pinning a huge bulls-eye in the middle of his back for the nearest green attorney to target practice with and land the career of a lifetime? He looked at Cid in exasperation, "Don't you care? You're the number one suspect in a _murder investigation_! The hottest murder investigation in this city in _fifteen years_!"

"Should I care? Should I make myself out t'be a victim, wrongly accused and harassed until th'real killer's found? Or should I try t'run an' get caught, make m'self look guilty so I get more attention? No, I don't think that's the answer. I don't like this, an' I'm gonna stay as far away from it as I can. That includes gettin' all worked up about it. B'sides," he said, sighing, "there's only one thing I care about t'night, an' you know full well what that is. The rest c'n fuck itself fer all I care. I don't give a shit 'whodunit.' It's done, ain't it? This is why I sucked as a cop, see?" Cid said, smile as empty and dry as his words. "I just don't see th'point sometimes."

Zack snickered. "Man you _do _have some fucked up logic, but strangely I can follow it." He stood and resituated his coat. "I've said my piece, Chief. Just stick around and come in t' give those samples. And if _I _were you? Even _with_ the fucked up logic, I'd _start_ carin', because if the right DA gets hold of this case, not even your fancy, rich Princess can bail you out and you'll be separated. If you care about him as much as I _think_ you do? I'd be gettin' on that." He walked to the door, opened it and paused, looking back at Cid still at the table. "Cid? Lock your door, there're monsters out here." With a little two-fingered salute, he let himself out.

Cid tried to find it in him to take Zack's words a little more seriously, but now that the distraction was gone, Vincent was the only thing on his mind. Everything in this place, it seemed, had some connection to Vincent now. After taking at least the practical part of the advice and locking his door, Cid moved to the recliner and closed his eyes. It had all been less than three days ago! If he tried hard enough, he thought he could still smell the way Vincent had smelled after getting out of the shower, still hear him laughing and feel his hands….these were things, Cid reminded himself, that he would smell and hear and feel again. Vincent would be all right. It would take time, but he would be.

_He loves me_, he thought proudly, still dimly amazed that someone like Vincent would so much as look at him twice. He didn't go to bed, but instead slept in the chair. At least he wouldn't get too comfortable there.


	43. Chapter 43

A stabbing pain in his frontal lobe in the form of bright light into his dilated pupils brought Vincent awake with a jolt, causing his eyes to suddenly focus and scaring poor Dr. Bugenhagen, penlight still in hand, nearly to death. With a startled shout, Dr. Bugenhagen took several steps back and Vincent blinked rapidly to try to clear his vision of a myriad of white spots. He tried to take a deep breath but an object stuffed down his throat was blocking his attempts. He was dimly aware of an alarm blatting in his right ear as he reached up and tried to claw the thing out of his mouth. He was too weak to remove it and began to choke.

Recovering quickly as his patient began to thrash and the heart monitor went haywire bringing three nurses in at a run, Dr. Bugenhagen looked at the sturdiest one and snapped, "Help me!" Together, he and the nurse grabbed one of Vincent's wrists and tried to hold him down while Dr. Bugenhagen leaned in close to the man's ear. "Mr. Valentine! Calm down! You're hooked up to a ventilator and if you calm down we'll remove it…forget it, it's not working." He looked up at the other two nurses and said sharply, "Well don't just stand there! You, get some straps, if he doesn't quit thrashing, he'll re-open his incision. You, get me a healthy shot of Nembutal, STAT!"

The two nurses left just as quickly as they had arrived and the first one back was the one with nylon Velcro restraints. Moving fast, she managed to immobilize Vincent's legs and moved to the right arm, just as the other returned with a syringe. She traded places with Dr. Bugenhagen, who checked the dosage, squirted out the excess and plunged the needle directly into Vincent's thigh. Within minutes, Vincent's trashing stilled and the man lay in a dazed stupor.

"Well," Dr. Bugenhagen said breathlessly. "I think it's safe to say that his lungs are functioning on their own now. Oh dammit, he opened his incision. I'm going to get some fresh dressings and take a new blood sample; I want to check his levels now. Take him off of the ventilator and restrain him securely. I have a feeling the Velcro won't hold; go and get some buckle-straps. The last thing I want is this remarkable man hurting himself even further."

As the nurses moved to comply with their orders, Dr. Bugenhagen moved to the wall phone and dialed the man's attending. "Mike? It's Paul, you won't believe what just happened. You know that gunshot victim that came in yesterday? Right, the one in the coma, who crashed…yeah, well he just woke up. No, no I'm _not_ kidding. Woke up like he was just having a bad dream and came up swinging. Yeah I'm with him now, we had to restrain him. No, he opened his incision…right, okay…see you in a few." He hung up and took a minute to get his own racing heart back under control. This really had to be some kind of medical history they were making, and he was right in the middle of it! But his word was his word, he had several other calls to make…

Predictably, he woke with unpleasant aches in his neck and back- but he also woke up early, which had been the plan. Except…he had expected the sun to be up. And that noise to be quiet….wait. Noise? That was his phone. Aches forgotten, he dashed to the phone and answered it hurriedly. "Hello?"

"Hello, this is Dr. Bugenhagen, is this a Mr….Highwing?"

"Uh, Highwind, yeah. Is…nothing's wrong, right?" _Please let it be good news._

"No, nothing is wrong, Mr. Highwind." Dr. Bugenhagen chuckled. "Rather, it's good news. Mr. Valentine has regained consciousness. He's sedated right now to keep him calm, but his lungs have begun working and he is resting comfortably."

"He's- good. That's…oh, that's wonderful. I knew he'd make it. Thank ye fer callin'. Thank y'so much, doctor, fer everything. I, uh…I don't suppose if I came up there now y'd let me in t'see 'im, huh? But it's still all right for me t'come in at eight, right, like y'said yest'y?" Cid was caught between going back to sleep and sprinting to the hospital in his boxers and slippers, visiting hours or no. "Let 'im know I'll be there, okay? Even if he's sedated, just…let 'im know I'll be there soon's I can."

"I will, Mr. Highwind," Dr. Bugenhagen said sincerely. "And it's all right for you to come at eight. Have a good evening."

"I will. Thanks again, doc." After hanging up, Cid snorted. Evening had been over a long time ago. He set his alarm clock and spent the rest of his "evening" in bed. He woke four hours later, showered, and threw on some fresh clothes. Having taken the bus, Cid arrived at the hospital at seven o' clock- he liked the cafeteria's food and decided he might as well have breakfast there. He ate more quickly than was necessary, found himself needing to kill another half-hour, and elected to simply sit and watch people. Many stopped to look at the stuffed bandersnatch in the seat beside him, but most –and only a few were present, anyway, and mostly employees- just ignored him and went about their business. He made a suddenly extremely necessary bathroom run, checked the clock, and set off in the direction of Vincent's room, idly smoothing his clothing and finger-combing his hair as he walked down the wide halls. At exactly five to eight, he reached Vincent's door and promptly started pacing in front of it.

Vincent spent that night drifting in and out of lucidity. He would just get to sleep then someone would come in and take his temperature or blood pressure, and his head both hurt and felt fuzzy. His chest felt like there was a great weight on it and he couldn't move his arms or legs. At another point, a nurse came in, lifted the sheet covering his waist and there was a burning in his penis as she changed his catheter, then he was left alone again. He couldn't focus his thoughts and it hurt to breathe so he gave in to sleep for another precious hour before he was woken up…again.

"Good morning, Mr. Valentine!" the nurse said rather loudly, a chipper older woman who clucked and fussed over him needlessly. "And how are we this morning?"

"N-" He swallowed with difficulty and tried again. "Not deaf," he rasped.

She laughed, which irritated him a little. "Oh, you are funny." She lightly swatted his shoulder before putting the stethoscope buds in her ear. "Let me just take your blood pressure here…" she wrapped the cuff around his arm and inflated it with a quick 'piff-piff-piff' and slowly let it out. "Are you in any pain?" She asked as she watched the second hand on her wristwatch.

"Chest…hurts," he managed, and tried to move his arms again. "Wh-" Another swallow. "Why can't I move…my arms?" He had to talk slowly as he couldn't seem to get enough air.

This only seemed to make the nurse talk more loudly, and over punctuate her words as though he couldn't understand her. "You've been restrained. And your chest hurts because you had a very nasty little gunshot wound."

_Since when were gunshot wounds 'little'?_ he thought wryly, and he liked the idea of being restrained even less. He shook his wrists weakly, even as he fought a mild case of panic. "Not…necessary…"

"I'll ask your doctor if they can be removed, Mr. Valentine. In the meantime is there anything I can get you?"

"Water," he wheezed, trying to lick his dry lips with a thick tongue that felt like a hunk of cotton.

"I'll see what I can do, all right?" She patted his arm in a motherly fashion, gathered her blood pressure cuff and stethoscope and left. As she shut the door she narrowly missed colliding with a rough-looking blond man. She frowned. "I'm sorry, can I help you?"

"Uh, Dr. Bugenhagen said I c'd come in at eight t'see 'im, even though it's an hour early. Do I need t'wait a little while? I mean, if y're busy, I'll just..." Cid gestured vaguely at the hall, trying to tell her that he would continue to pace if he wasn't allowed inside yet.

She eyed him, not liking the way he looked. "Dr. Bugenhagen said that?" She shook her head, not believing him. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you please go out to the waiting room. Visitation is at _nine. O'clock._"

"An' I'm gonna have t'ask you t'imagine what it felt like this mornin' when I heard he woke up. That man in there? He means th'whole world t'me. Yesterday I thought he was dyin', an' t'day I get a call sayin' he's awake…" Cid shook his head; it was actually all just coming together for him. "Look, he prob'ly ain't ready fer visitors anyway, but I promised 'im I'd be here at eight, an' it's eight, an' I'm here. An' if y'don't believe me, call Bugenhagen yerself. While you're doin' that, I'll sneak in an' see m'Vincent anyway. How's that?"

"Sir," the nurse said, getting defensive. "Am I going to have to call hospital security? If I let everyone in that _said_ a doctor told them they could, there would be chaos in this hospital! I'm sorry if the last 24 hours have been difficult for you, but he'll still be here in an hour. Now. Go. Wait. In. The. Waiting room."

Sizing up the woman in front of him, Cid decided it was probably in his best interest to at least pretend to back down. He gave a theatrical sigh and shuffled his feet, shooting her a dejected look. "All right. I'll be back at nine, but don't think I won't be complainin' t'the doctor about this. I ain't one t'break a promise. Not t'Vincent, especially."

"You're certainly welcome to." The nurse huffed, putting her hands on her very ample hips.

"I'm sorry, is there a problem here?" Dr. Bugenhagen asked, smiling as he approached the two.

"Nope," Cid said brightly. "No problem at all. She was just steppin' aside so I c'd get in t'see Vincent."

The nurse spluttered. "I most certainly was not!" She turned to Dr. Bugenhagen. "I'm sorry doctor, but this man _claims_ that you told him he could be here an hour early."

Dr. Bugenhagen blinked and said slowly, "But, I _did_ tell him that."

The nurse looked startled, then very displeased. "I'm sorry, doctor, but that is expressly against hospital regulation, you know as well as I that-"

"Patti," Dr. Bugenhagen sighed. "I am well aware of 'hospital regulation', but given the severity of this man's condition and the fact that he had _died_ the night before, I made an allowance. Now, you are most welcome to file a complaint, but my approval to allow this man in stands, and I know you have other patients that you need to see, now go on."

With another huff, Patti glared once more at the blond, before scuttling off down the hall.

Rubbing his temple he turned back to Cid. "I'm sorry, Mr. Highwind, she's a bit of a stickler for rules, but a very good nurse. Please, go ahead and go on in, I'll join you shortly."

Unable to resist the urge, Cid sent a whispered "Told ya so," in the retreating nurse's direction, only to clear his throat, chagrined, as Bugenhagen looked at him, amused. "Couldn't help it. Some of us never grow up, y'know?" He thanked the doctor again and timidly pushed open the door. Part of him had expected Vincent to be in better condition than this, but that was the over-hopeful part. The rational portion was surprised that Vincent was awake, and even more surprised to see that a good deal of the color –what little there was on a good day- had returned to his face. "Hey there," Cid said quietly, setting the bandersnatch in the far chair at the end of the room before going to Vincent's side and frowning at the restraints. "I'd ask how y're feelin', but that'd be a stupid question even fer me."

As soon as the nurse had left, Vincent had begun feebly working at his restraints and managed to get himself good and frustrated when someone walked into his room. He stared at the man dumbly for moment, unable to identify him. Suddenly it clicked. He knew this man. "Cid," he said, his voice barely above a painful whisper. He 'rattled' his restraints. "I c-" He swallowed again. Where was that damned nurse with his water? "I can't move my arms…" he said plaintively.

"I know. I'm sorry." He looked around. Where was Bugenhagen? Surely now that he knew where he was, Vincent's restraints could be removed… "Th'doctor's gonna be in here in just a minute. He'll take 'em off, prob'ly." Vincent seemed unusually panicked by not being able to move his arms…but then Cid thought about it, and it wasn't unusual at all. He needed them off. It wasn't fair to leave him like this. This was as much torture for Vincent as the pain would have been for anyone else. One more quick look around guaranteed that no one was looking. "If anybody asks, th'nurse took 'em off," Cid instructed, grinning because he could tell that Vincent hadn't really processed what he'd said. He was too focused on Cid's hands undoing the buckles and easing his right arm out of the straps. "Don't you make me regret this, Valentine," he teased, moving around to release Vincent from the left one as well.

Sighing in relief he brought his hand up and rubbed his eyes, wheezing. His panic receding and his heartbeat slowing –illustrated by a slower 'beep-pause-beep-pause-beep' of his heart monitor- he put his arm back down and looked again at Cid. He managed a weak smile. "You came. I knew you would." His chest hurt so badly. He shut his eyes. "I knew you would."

"Of course I did," Cid said softly, the smile on Vincent's face reflected and amplified on his. "I wouldn't be anywhere else." He could see, in the brief moments before they closed, the pain in those red eyes. Hadn't they given him anything? He'd ask, when Bugenhagen came back. "Don't worry 'bout talkin' t'me. I ain't goin' anywhere. You just rest." He crossed the room to retrieve the chair, and then realize he had nothing to do with the bandersnatch except hold it or force it on Vincent. For the moment, he set it in his lap after sitting down with his back to the door. "I'm so glad y'came back to us, Vincent," he said, and then added more quietly, "but m'sorry y'had to."

"Chose to," Vincent sighed and with a wince, fell into a half-dozing stupor once again.

Shortly thereafter, Dr. Bugenhagen entered the room. "I'm sorry, I had to stop in and see a patient who was having difficulty moving…" He stopped and frowned at the restraints that were no longer on his patient. He turned to Cid and asked, "Did you do that?"

"Uhhh…" Cid said stupidly, scratching the back of his neck. "Well it ain't like he w's goin' anywhere," he continued, face lighting up as he realized he'd forgotten his plan to blame the nurse. "Just…shit like that really bothers 'im. I mean really, really messes with 'im. He wasn't gonna get no rest like that."

"Mr. Highwind, he was placed in restraints for his own protection." Dr. Bugenhagen said sternly. "He was highly combative when he woke up. I need you to not interfere with his treatment. You might do something irreversible. This is for his own good."

"Does he look 'highly combative' now?" Cid asked, eyebrow raised. "Look, physical injuries heal a hell of a lot faster than other kinds, 'specially fer him. If he'd hurt 'imself, he'd be fine. If y'leave 'im all tied up like that, he won't. There ain't no reason for 'im t'be at yer mercy. He's awake now an' mostly all there, so he c'n make decisions fer 'imself. An' he wanted th'damned restraints off an' they're gonna stay off." Cid had the distinct feeling that he was going to get himself kicked out soon if he continued to argue the point.

Dr. Bugenhagen frowned deeply. "If you wish to continue visiting my patient, I'll ask you not to interfere again." Without waiting for the man to reply, he walked over to the patient in question. Leaning over him, Dr. Bugenhagen said, "Mr. Valentine? Can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes, son."

"Not…your son," Vincent said weakly, trying to lick his lips again.

"No, you're not, it's just a term. Now I need you to open your eyes for me, can you do that? Look at me, now."

With a small sound of pain, Vincent turned his head to look more fully at Dr. Bugenhagen, blinking as he tried to focus. He opened his eyes and winced as that thrice-cursed penlight made a reappearance. "Hurts," he said on a shallow gasp. "Water."

"I imagine it does hurt," Dr. Bugenhagen patted Vincent's shoulder. "Let me see what I can do about that and I'll get you some water. Hang tight for me." On his way out to find some painkillers and water for his patient, he shot the blond another warning look.

Cid grumbled at Bugenhagen as he left but resisted the urge to stick out his tone. He wanted to be allowed to come back to see Vincent. "Sorry," he said. "Guess I screwed up anyway. What is it with th'people here, huh? They preach about doin' what's best for ya an' overlook th'most important things." Not expecting an answer, Cid left the bandersnatch in the chair and wandered to the other side of the room. "'Scuse me a minute. Gonna stand over here so it don't look like m'interferin'."

Vincent had closed his eyes again in an effort to get control of his pain, his brow furrowed in muddied concentration. He found that if he kept his breathing short and shallow it didn't hurt _as much_, but even that was getting difficult. He needed more air!

Dr. Bugenhagen returned shortly carrying a syringe and a sealed plastic mug with a straw that clicked with ice cubes. "Here we are!" He set the mug down and held the syringe up for Vincent's inspection. "This is a combination of low-dose painkillers and mako, it's still in the experimental stage, but those we've tried it on have had good responses to it. You're not allergic to any forms of mako, are you?"

Vincent managed to shake his head. _None that you know of_, he thought.

"Good, then we'll just inject this into to your IV here," Dr. Bugenhangen said, narrating his actions. "And you should be feeling the effects, right, about…now."

And true to his word, Vincent's pain began to fade. In its place came mild nausea, but he figured that was a small price to pay for relief. "Oh yeah…" he breathed, feeling his body begin to relax from its pain-contorted rigor. His head lolled to the side and gave the doctor a slightly dopey grin. "Better."

"Good," Dr. Bugenhagen chuckled, and as he reached for the mug of water, his pager went off, making him jump a little. "Dammit," he checked the message and frowned. "I need to go." He looked up at the blond. "Do you think you can handle this? Or shall I call a nurse?"

"I c'n handle it," Cid said, only partially aware of what he was agreeing to. He crossed the room again and took the cup of water in one hand. "Not too much at once, 'kay? S'cold. Y'll give yerself a brainfreeze." He started to extend the cup in Vincent's direction but realized that drinking while lying down was not a good way to start recovering from anything. Didn't these things sit up or something? They did on all those doctor shows. He set down the cup, wincing at the look of loss on Vincent's face, and bent to examine the panel of switches and lights he'd seen the day before. He blinked, lost, and then noticed the diagrams. "Gonna sit ya up a little, a' right?" he asked, hesitating before pushing the button that _looked_ like it would put Vincent in a satisfactory position. Much to his relief, it did, and did so slowly enough that he could make sure Vincent was still comfortable as it moved. "There we go. That's a little better, huh?" He took the cup again and placed it a reachable distance, but not in Vincent's face. It was the details, he figured, that mattered the most right now. "Careful," he cautioned, and held the straw steady when Vincent moved to drink through it.

As the cold water ran down his throat, Vincent gave a soft moan of relief. He drank until he nearly made himself sick, then tried to motion Cid to drop the bed back down but couldn't. He just hoped the man could understand what he was trying to relay.

When Vincent stopped drinking and appeared to have no more interest in the water, Cid set the cup aside and noticed that Vincent appeared uncomfortable again. "If y're all done, I'll lay ya back down." There was no protest, so Cid proceeded to do exactly as he said, smiling proudly at his newly mastered ability to control the bed.

With a quiet sigh as he lay back down, relieving the gravity-induced discomfort, Vincent looked over at Cid and smiled weakly again. He tried to reach for Cid, wanting to touch him…_needing_ to touch him. "I'm…sorry."

"Fer what, sugar? Ain't none of it your fault." He scooted the chair closer and sat in it, accidentally squashing Domino the stuffed bandersnatch in the process. "Whoops," Cid said, laughing quietly. "I, uh, got ya this, but it ain't safe for ya t'keep in bed with ya yet. Been holdin' onto it in th'meantime." He set the animal aside on the foot of Vincent's bed. The chair didn't get him close enough to Vincent no matter where he put it. "Y'know I'm gonna be sneakin' inta bed with ya just as soon as y're well enough for it," he informed Vincent as, restlessly, he stood again and resumed hovering over Vincent.

He wanted to hold his hand again –knowing Vincent, the shallow cuts had already healed on both sides- and kiss his cheek as he had the night before, but somehow Vincent seemed more fragile now that he was awake. He settled for resting his hand on the bed near Vincent's wrist and stroking the back of his hand with a rough, clumsy thumb.

Vincent looked at the bandersnatch before it went to rest at the foot of his bed, then back up at Cid, a tear leaking out of the corner of his eye, and down onto the pillow. "My fault…" he rasped, and struggled until he could wrap his fingers around Cid's hand awkwardly. He shut his eyes again, panting from even that tiny movement. "So much… my fault…" With that, he drifted off again.

"Not your fault, Vincent. On'y thing that's yer fault is how happy I am." Cid arranged himself on the ground so he could lay his head near Vincent's hand. He kissed it and shifted his hand to hold it gently, genuinely happy to be allowed to share this with Vincent. "And I love ya for that, y'know. I really do."

"Mmmm," Vincent sighed and squeezed his fingers around Cid's.


End file.
